


Nine Weddings and No Funerals

by gluupor



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (for one chapter), Banter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Neil being a sarcastic asshole, Pining, Protective Andrew Minyard, Sick Character, Sorry there are two beds, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Wedding Dates, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-12-17 16:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21057485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor
Summary: Neil's just been unceremoniously dumped by his longtime boyfriend before a busy wedding season where it seems like everyone he knows is tying the knot. Desperate not to look like a pathetic loser in front of his ex, he goes along with a plan to bring along a fake boyfriend to the weddings. Since neither Neil nor his date Andrew are interested in pursuing a relationship, there's no chance that anyone's feelings will be hurt.Surely nothing about this plan will backfire.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I'm back on my fake dating bullshit.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” demanded Kevin, pacing around Neil’s mostly barren apartment. He’d glanced once at the sad, yellow, metal folding chairs that comprised of the entirety of Neil’s current furniture and sneered, opting to remain standing. He took the opportunity to circle Neil’s tiny box-filled living area and point out all the flaws of Neil’s new shithole apartment.

“It’s not a hard concept to grasp,” said Neil from his perch on the countertop. Sitting in one of the chairs would have given Kevin too much of a height advantage.

“You can’t _not go_,” said Kevin, getting more and more agitated. “You RSVPed.”

“Technically, Jean and I RSVPed together. Now that we’re not a couple anymore, he can use the plus one for someone else.” Neil tried to ignore the pang that came from thinking of Jean with anyone else. They’d been together for almost a decade before their sudden breakup the previous month.

“Wait, did Laila rescind your invitation?” asked Kevin, sounding scandalized. “How dare she!”

“No, she didn’t,” said Neil patiently, “although she has every right to; she and Sara are both more Jean’s friends than mine. But, no. When Jean called her to tell her we broke up she sent us separate invites.”

“Both with a plus one?”

“Yup.”

“Well, then, you _have_ to go. They probably redid the seating arrangements. Believe me, that’s not easy. It would be rude of you not to go.”

“Cause I’m never rude,” snorted Neil. “I’m not going. I don’t have a date and I have no interest in sitting alone watching Jean be happy with his.”

Kevin sighed and slumped into one of the rickety chairs, which creaked ominously. “I still can’t believe you guys broke up.”

Neil bit his lip and fiddled with the frayed end of his sleeve. Neither could he. For him it had come out of the blue but according to Jean it had been inevitable.

“It completely ruins my wedding party if the two of you are avoiding each other,” lamented Kevin.

“I’m really sorry that me getting dumped has negatively affected _you_,” said Neil sarcastically.

Kevin looked up at him, his face puzzled. “You told me you were fine.”

Neil gestured around his bare and unpacked apartment. It was quite a downgrade to the place he’d been sharing with Jean. Technically, as the dumped party, he could have argued for his right to keep the place and all the joint furniture, but he needed a smaller and cheaper place since he now had to pay for it alone. He’d splurged on a giant, extremely comfortable mattress, but so far hadn’t gotten around to getting other furniture. He could count on Matt and Dan’s hand-me-downs if he waited a couple months. They would have to consolidate when they moved in together.

“I lied,” he admitted.

Kevin looked to be at a loss, neither sympathy nor empathy coming to him naturally. “If you want to talk about it…” he said stiltedly.

“I don’t,” said Neil, letting him off the hook.

Kevin nodded, relieved. “Back to what I was saying,” he continued, now that he wasn’t required to comfort Neil. “Thea and I set a date. We’re getting married on the Memorial Day weekend next year. You and Jean need to pull yourselves together by then.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “That’s in well over a year, Kevin. Even if we’re not back together, the break up won’t be fresh.”

“But I wanted my wedding party to be made up entirely of other couples,” complained Kevin. “Now it’s ruined.”

Neil huffed, amused despite himself at Kevin’s self-centredness. They’d known each other since they were eight; he was used to it by now.

Kevin froze and cocked his head in a way that meant he’d gotten an idea that Neil wasn’t going to like. There’d be no rest for Neil until he went through with whatever plan Kevin had just concocted. He would be nagged to death until he agreed out of exasperation. He braced himself.

“What you need to do,” said Kevin slowly, “is make Jean jealous. That’s how you finally got together, remember? You’d been dancing around each other for months but as soon as someone else showed interest in you he got all territorial.”

“Right, but we’re nominally adults now,” Neil pointed out. “I’m not sure he’s going to react the same way he did as a hormonal fourteen-year-old.”

Kevin didn’t even condescend to pretend to listen to what Neil was saying. “You need to bring a date to Laila’s wedding. And to the other weddings you’re attending this summer.”

“I’m not going to ask someone to come with me for the express purpose of making my ex jealous,” said Neil scathingly. “You know that I’m not interested in most people like that and I’m not willing to lead someone on.”

“What if…” Kevin trailed off and started muttering to himself. “I know someone you can pretend to date,” he said triumphantly.

“What did I _just_ say?”

“No, no, hear me out,” said Kevin, talking faster as his excitement for his plan grew. “You know my friend from college, Andrew?”

“The tiny, joyless, stabby one?” asked Neil, squinting in thought. He hadn’t met most of Kevin’s college friends since they went to different schools, but he’d heard stories about some of them.

“We still go for drinks about once a month. He was complaining to me the other day that he has a couple weddings to go to this summer and his family is bugging him about bringing a plus one.”

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of me not leading him on.”

“That’s the beauty of it. He doesn’t date; he never has as long as I’ve known him. He told me once that he has no interest in it. But he does like making deals and reciprocity—I’m sure he’d go to your weddings as your plus one if you return the favour.”

“_More_ weddings?” groaned Neil. “I already have to go to four in the next nine months!”

“Too late,” said Kevin, pulling out his phone. “I’m already texting him.”

Neil glared, but it had as much effect as glaring at the wind. “You’re the worst,” he said.

“You’ll thank me when my awesome plan wins your boyfriend back,” said Kevin smugly.

* * *

Neil hoped that Kevin’s plan for Operation: Make Jean Jealous By Getting Neil A Wedding Date would fizzle out as soon as he was out of Kevin’s direct line of sight and therefore away from his fixation, but Kevin hadn’t conveniently forgotten. The day after Kevin’s visit, Neil got a text from him that directed him to a coffee shop that wasn’t far from where he worked and a time to meet during Neil’s lunch hour.

Neil considered begging off—or just blowing off the meeting—but he really didn’t want to go to any weddings alone (and deep down inside he did want Jean back and he was willing to try Kevin’s stupid plan).

The coffee shop was cramped and cozy and warm, especially compared to the grey, drizzly mid-February day. Neil inhaled the welcome scents of coffee grounds and sugar, happily sighing when he noticed they served sandwiches as well as hot beverages and pastries. He was skipping his usual lunchtime for this meeting; if he went back to work without eating something substantial he’d spend the rest of the afternoon hangry.

He caught sight of a blond man dressed all in black that matched Kevin’s description of his friend. He looked bored out of his mind, his attention completely on his lunch. Neil placed his order and made his way to the table; maybe-Andrew was sitting in the most defensible place in the shop, where no one could come up behind him.

“Andrew?” he asked, coming to a stop beside the table.

The man looked up and gave him a once over, his expression not giving away his thoughts. He nodded once and gestured at the open seat across from him. “Neil, I presume?”

“Are there many strangers that randomly wander up to you and say your name?” wondered Neil.

Andrew ignored him. “Kevin said you’ll be my date to a couple weddings if in return I make someone jealous? Or something? To be honest, I usually tune out most of what Kevin says.”

“That’s the best practice,” said Neil. “And not quite. Mostly I need a plus one because my ex will be there with _his_ plus one and I don’t want to look pathetic.”

Andrew gave him another slow once over and raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t want to look pathetic, I suggest not wearing your pyjamas in public.”

“It’s casual Friday,” said Neil defensively. His sweats and hoodie weren’t _that_ scruffy. Plus he hadn’t unpacked the majority of his clothes yet. Only his work clothes and his comfy home clothes.

Andrew shrugged one shoulder, not conceding. He moved on, “You need me to go to one wedding with you?”

“Technically, I’ve been invited to four weddings between now and October,” said Neil. “But let’s start with one as a trial and see how it goes?”

“Depends whose weddings you want me to attend,” said Andrew.

“Uh, I don’t think you know any of them, but my friends Laila Dermott and Sara Alvarez are getting married in April, I’m best man in Matt Boyd and Dan Wilds’ wedding in June, my old college coach—Kevin’s dad—is tying the knot in August, and I’ve been invited to Allison Reynolds’ society wedding in October.”

“I am not going to Allison Reynolds’ wedding,” said Andrew instantly.

“Although I mostly agree with you at how awful it’s going to be, she _is_ rich. At the very least the food’s going to be good,” Neil pointed out.

“How well do you know her?”

“We see each other from time to time; we were close in college.”

Andrew studied him for a couple beats. “Renee Walker is my best friend.”

“Oh,” said Neil, instantly understanding Andrew’s aversion to Allison’s wedding. “Makes sense you don’t want to go.”

Andrew nodded and changed the subject, “I’ve got three weddings this summer: my brother’s in May, my cousin’s in July, and my ex-therapist’s in September.”

“And you need a plus one?”

“They nag.”

“Fair enough,” said Neil. “How about we try it? You come to Laila’s wedding with me in April and I’ll go to your brother’s in May. Then, if we can still stand to be around each other, we can consider going to the others?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “If your boyfriend does take you back between now and May you still have to come to Aaron’s wedding with me.”

“Of course,” said Neil, feeling slightly affronted. “I’d never welsh on a deal.”

“Fine,” said Andrew, nodding. He sat back as the server brought Neil’s sandwich to him, waiting until she was out of earshot before speaking again. “It’s a deal. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend to make your ex jealous and you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend to appease my family.” He held out his hand over the table.

Neil shook in agreement. “Hopefully in a few months I’ll be back with Jean and you and I can put this whole thing behind us and never bother each other again.”


	2. The Wedding of Laila Dermott and Sara Alvarez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains slight acephobia.

##### April

Neil met with Andrew twice more before he took him as his plus one to Laila’s wedding. The first time was about two weeks after their first meeting, back in the same coffee shop, to hammer out dates and logistics.

It wasn’t until a week before the wedding that Neil realized he knew next to nothing about the man he was supposed to be dating and sent Andrew a string of panicked Sunday night texts about meeting sometime that week to get their stories straight. Andrew seemed much less worried about the situation than Neil but agreed to meet him for lunch anyway.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up,” said Andrew, taking a bite out of sandwich. He’d arrived first again and already had his food by the time Neil got there; Neil was watching him eat somewhat spitefully.

“Because no one’s going to believe we’re together if I don’t know anything about you?” Neil replied acidly.

“Do you think one of your friends is going to corner you and quiz you about how well you know me? It’s their wedding.”

“You don’t know my friends,” said Neil, unwinding a little as he admitted that Andrew was probably correct.

“Just make up some bullshit; they don’t know me and I’m not going to contradict anything you say.”

“What if I say you’re unsatisfying in bed?”

Andrew was clearly unimpressed. “I’d prove to you I’m not, if you weren’t still hung up on your ex.”

Neil swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t think it was abnormal to not be over the sudden break up of a ten year relationship after a couple months. “Also, I’m somewhere on the ace spectrum—grey ace or demi, I’m not exactly sure which,” he said. “Although given that, it might be fun to insinuate we’re sleeping together to see his reaction.”

“You want to get a rise out of him?”

Neil snorted. “‘A rise’. Nice. No, I’m not interested in broadcasting my fake sex life. Just having a date will be surprising enough; it’s not been long enough for me to move on.”

“Loverboy dumped you in, what, January?”

“Yeah,” said Neil forlornly. “He timed it so it fell directly between my birthday and Valentine’s Day.”

“Classy,” said Andrew. “But in any case, unless you were fake cheating we haven’t been fake seeing each other for long. There’s no reason you should know everything about me.”

“How about anything?” pressed Neil. “Just normal small talk things, like your job or how many pets you have or, oh I don’t know, your _last name_.”

“Boring,” sighed Andrew. “Website coder, one, Minyard. Happy now?”

“Do I get to ask any follow up questions?” asked Neil, rolling his eyes.

“No.” Andrew took a large bite of his sandwich.

“Fine, how about two truths and a lie? Will that make it more interesting?”

Andrew chewed consideringly. “It depends.”

“I’ll go first,” said Neil. “One: I have a ferret named King Fluffkins. Two: When I was younger I had an imaginary friend named Hugsy. He was an anthropomorphic penguin. Three: In eighth grade, our school had a talent show and Kevin made Jean and I join him to perform a One Direction song, complete with choreography. However, his nemesis, Riko Moriyama, found out his plan and put together his own group and sang the _same song_ in the slot before us. Kevin still can’t hear the lyrics to _What Makes You Beautiful_ without shedding a manly tear.”

Andrew stared at him for several beats. Neil looked up to thank the server for bringing his lunch and when he turned back Andrew was still giving him the stink eye.

“What?” he asked innocently, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

“None of those things are true,” accused Andrew.

Neil grinned at him. “Are you sure?”

“Kevin is terrified of ferrets; he’d never go to your apartment if you had one.”

“True,” conceded Neil. “So that’s your guess for the lie?”

“That last one can’t be true, either. Kevin talks about his biggest embarrassments every time he gets drunk.”

“That’s true, too… Maybe it’s too painful for him to talk about?” suggested Neil guilelessly.

“It’s not true,” said Andrew decisively. He eyed Neil for several moments before breaking. “...Is it?”

Neil shrugged one shoulder. “Who knows? Your turn!” he said brightly.

“You’re cheating.”

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t want to get to know me through ‘boring smalltalk’,” said Neil.

Andrew watched Neil with an unreadable expression before sitting back and looking contemplative. “I once stabbed a man just to watch him bleed.”

“Was it Kevin? Because: relatable,” said Neil.

Andrew huffed a breath before continuing, “I have an eidetic memory. And I am an identical triplet with my brothers Aaron and Arthur.”

“Not sextuplets with Adam and Archie and Arnold?” asked Neil dryly. “Or septuplets with Alex? Or…” Neil trailed off and furrowed his brow in thought.

“Octuplets,” sighed Andrew.

“Octuplets! That’s the word,” he said, pointing at Andrew. “With… nah, I’m out of A names now. That was all of them.”

“Anthony, Alan, Austin, Abram—”

“That’s my middle name,” interrupted Neil. “I probably should have remembered that one.”

“Probably.”

“But an eidetic memory, huh? That’s cool. What shirt was I wearing the first time we met?”

Andrew took a sip of his drink. “I thought there was a rule about no follow up questions.”

“You asked follow up questions,” argued Neil.

“Only because you were cheating.”

“I was wearing a blue shirt, wasn’t I? Are you not answering because you don’t remember?”

Andrew frowned and valiantly tried not to say anything.

“Blue with stripes on it,” Neil said confidently.

“It was red,” corrected Andrew grumpily. “With a sports logo on it. It clashed with your hair.”

Neil shrugged. “If you say so. I barely know what I’m wearing right now.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Your turn.”

Neil leaned forward across the table. “One: I can hold my breath for ten minutes. Two: I started driving regularly when I was ten and I’ve only been pulled over once. Three: I once ate nothing but ramen for a month and a half.”

“None of those things are true.”

“Two truths and a lie.”

“You’d be dead,” argued Andrew, visibly getting annoyed.

“You were right,” Neil said with a shit-eating grin. “This is _way_ more fun than smalltalk.”

* * *

Allison showed up at Neil’s apartment on the Wednesday before the wedding. She glanced around, wrinkled her nose in disgust, and then said, “Come on, loser. We’re going shopping.”

Neil knew Allison well enough that he didn’t protest, simply let himself be swept along in her wake as she dragged him from place to place, getting him new clothing, new soap and cosmetic products, and a new hairstyle. She chattered nonstop, barely letting him get a word in edgewise. Although she never stopped talking, she didn’t mention anything of import: it was all what her mother was up to, and the society parties she’d attended, and scandalous gossip. She didn’t mention her own thoughts or feelings and didn’t once bring up her upcoming wedding.

Neil wanted to ask her about it but he knew the fastest way to get her to clam up was to try to get her to talk. Dan had called him the week before to complain about Allison’s recent avoidant behaviour.

The closest he got to mentioning something was when she forced him into the hairdresser's chair, saying, “We’ll make you look super hot so that asshole Moreau realizes what he’s missing.”

“Speaking of, I heard Renee changed her hair,” said Neil, a little crabbily. He wasn’t in the best mood from being treated like a doll for several hours.

Allison faltered slightly, before glaring at him, her spiky armour snapping back into place.

Neil held his hands up in surrender. “We’re not talking about it, I know.”

She had steadfastly refused to say anything to any of her friends on the subject of her breakup, which had occurred the previous fall. One minute she and Renee seemed blissfully happy, the next Allison was announcing her engagement to a man her parents wanted her to marry for years. It was completely unlike Allison to give in to her parents’ wishes, but no one could get to the bottom of it.

After several hours of being poked and prodded and changing clothes, Allison dropped Neil back at his apartment before speeding off in her little pink convertible, without uttering a single worthwhile sentence. Neil shook his head and texted Dan an update, but otherwise put the problem out of his head to deal with in the future.

As a result of Allison’s ministrations, he thought he was looking pretty good on the day of the wedding, although he wasn’t usually the best judge of such things. He thought the new hairstyle suited him, though.

As agreed, he drove to Andrew’s to pick him up. Andrew’s once over was appreciative when he answered the door, reinforcing Neil’s belief that he looked hot. Andrew himself cleaned up well, his black-on-black suit perfectly fitted. Neil felt absurdly proud of him for being hot; he was definitely going to make Jean jealous.

Andrew balked as they approached Neil’s car.

“What is that?” he demanded witheringly.

“My… car?” said Neil, not understanding the problem. Sure it was a little muddy and the back left passenger door was rusted shut and he’d used duct tape to cover up some holes, but it was _fine_. Andrew didn’t need to use that door anyway.

“Absolutely not,” said Andrew. “We’ll take mine.”

“There’s an open bar,” Neil pointed out. “You can’t drink if you’re the DD…”

Andrew looked conflicted for all of two seconds. “You can drive my car back here,” he pronounced, leading the way to a shiny, black beast of a car.

“Compensating for something?” drawled Neil as soon as Andrew hit his key fob and the car chirped unlocked.

“Afraid you can’t handle it?” returned Andrew.

Neil laughed. “You’ve seen my car. Do I seem like I have a lot of fear?”

“True,” allowed Andrew, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You’re a lot braver than you look, driving around in that thing.”

“That car’s been with me through a lot.”

“Like your conception?”

“God, I hope not,” said Neil shuddering.

The drive to the venue was spent continuing their game of two truths and a lie. Andrew was getting better at spotting Neil’s truths (although he kept insisting that most of what Neil said was lies). Neil was surprised at how much he was enjoying Andrew’s company. He generally only liked spending time with a select few that had wormed their way into his heart. He never warmed to anyone new quickly.

It wasn’t until they were seated for the ceremony that Neil remembered to be nervous about seeing Jean for the first time since their breakup. He surreptitiously surveyed the room and couldn’t help the way his breath hitched when he caught sight of him.

Andrew noticed, following Neil’s eyeline. “So that’s Loverboy?” he murmured.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to call him literally anything else?” Neil muttered back.

Andrew ignored him, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully. “I suppose he’s attractive, in a mopey, broody way. Didn’t the height difference make kissing awkward?”

“Don’t you know from your own experience, Shorty?”

“I stick to guys that are less than five inches taller than me. Narrows the options, but I don’t like being loomed over.”

“Makes sense,” said Neil, feeling like a fly caught in a trap as Jean began looking around. He swallowed audibly and his palms began to sweat.

Andrew jabbed him in the side. “I played the lead in my high school’s production of Les Mis.”

Neil turned to stare at him. “You what?”

“Who am I?” asked Andrew.

“What?” repeated Neil, getting more baffled by the second.

“Two four six oh one.”

“What is happening?”

“Two truths and a lie, obviously. Keep up.”

Neil opened his mouth and then closed it again. “What was the second truth?” he asked.

“What makes you think me starring in a musical is a lie?”

“Common sense.”

“I do actually enjoy musicals,” admitted Andrew. “Your turn.”

“Ummm,” said Neil, casting about for what to say. He caught sight of Sara gesturing wildly near the front of the room, trying to get the officiant’s attention. “The first time I met Sara, I spilled soup on her. The second time I met her, I spilled coffee on her. And the third time I met her, I spilled spaghetti on her.”

Andrew looked completely unimpressed. “Is that why you’re Laila’s guest?” Neil had informed the usher that he and Andrew were here for Laila when asked.

“Ha, no,” said Neil. “Sara’s forgiven me. In fact, the first time we met was during a food fight. I do not miss the freshman cafeteria.”

“I’m about 80% convinced that you’re just making up stories about your life based on teen movies.”

“Only 80?”

“Was Laila your friend first, then?” Andrew asked, doggedly sticking to his line of questioning.

“No, I knew Sara first; although they’ve always been more Jean’s friends than mine because they’re all biology majors,” said Neil. “But Laila called me last week to inform me that we’re ‘her’ guests. Her parents are living in a fantasy land where she’ll realize being a lesbian is a phase and she’ll marry a nice Indian boy, preferably the son of her father’s business partner, so they’re pretending the wedding isn’t happening. Meanwhile, Sara has a giant, supportive family that enjoys partying. Apparently her quinceañera ended only when the fire department showed up to douse the flames.”

Andrew perked up. “Is there a chance this wedding will catch fire? It’s the first one we’re attending, but a fire will guarantee it’s the best one.”

“If it does, it won’t be until most of the alcohol is consumed and I assume we’ll be long gone by then.”

Andrew’s reply was cut off by the ostentatious string quartet starting to play. Neil snapped to attention as Laila started her trek down the aisle.

The ceremony was sweet, Neil supposed, if a little saccharine for his tastes, but his friends were obviously joyously happy and smitten, which was all that mattered.

The reception was held immediately following the ceremony. Neil found himself at a table with several of his slight acquaintances: people he knew from past parties he’d gone to with Jean. As for Jean himself, he was clear across the room with his date, not anywhere near Neil’s eyeline. He was grateful for Laila and Sara’s conscientious seating plan.

Andrew took advantage of the open bar while Neil made awkward small talk with their tablemates. They made it through dinner (which had both Indian and Mexican-inspired dishes) without saying much as they remained in mostly-comfortable silence. For the after-dinner speeches they made quiet bets about who was most likely to cry and competed to see who could guess how interminably long each speech was going to be.

“We can head out soon,” Neil said after the last of the speeches was finally over. Andrew had been much better at guessing exactly how long each person was going to speak for.

To his surprise, Andrew shook his head. “Not under they serve the cake,” he said. “Booze and dessert are the only things that make weddings worthwhile.”

“Alright,” Neil smiled. “I’ll go congratulate the brides and see if I can wheedle out what time they’re planning to cut the cake.”

“I’ll be at the bar,” replied Andrew.

Neil wended his way through the crowd to wait his turn to talk to Laila and Sara. Laila hugged him tightly when she saw him.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she practically shouted. Her eyes were a little blurry, both from smeared eyeliner after shedding tears intermittently throughout the day and from the clearly large volume of alcohol she’d imbibed. “I thought you wouldn’t come, but you’re here!”

“You’re going to kill him, babe,” said Sara. Laila sheepishly loosened her hug and Neil gasped to draw air back into his lungs. He wasn’t quite recovered when Sara started trying to squeeze the life out of him. “Bet you’re dying to leave,” she said in an undertone, her tone joking.

“You have no idea,” agreed Neil. “To that end, when are you serving the cake?”

Sara laughed. “In about half an hour.” She pushed him away from her. “Go enjoy yourself until then.”

Finding that very unlikely, Neil headed to the washroom to relieve himself. He was washing his hands and trying to fix his one stupid unruly curl in the mirror when Jean entered the room. He stopped short when he caught sight of Neil, looking completely taken off guard.

“Neil,” he said warily.

“Jean.” Neil made eye contact in the mirror; it felt like his heart was in his throat.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I was invited.”

“Of course.” He paused indecisively. “I see you brought a date.” His tone was questioning.

“It’s really none of your business, but yes I did,” said Neil icily. He forced the next part out. “We met a little over a month ago. Kevin introduced us.” He stuck to the truth, because he’d once promised never to lie to Jean (fortunately, he’d never promised not to deliberately mislead him).

Jean’s face did something complicated. “You’re dating?” he asked, clearly unhappy about it.

“What, are you the only one allowed to?”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Neil whirled on him, eyes narrowed in anger. “You left me,” he hissed. “You’re not allowed to care.”

“I was just wondering if your ‘disinterest’—” Jean’s tone and air quotes were both incredibly sarcastic “—extended to him as well, or if your hackneyed ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse was a lie.”

“Fuck you, Jean.”

“You didn’t want to,” said Jean loftily. “That was the problem. I’ve found others who do.”

In the back of his mind, Neil recognized that Jean must be incredibly unsettled to see Neil on a date with someone else and was lashing out. That was the only explanation for him being so cruel. The majority of him, however, was seeing red. He was breathing quickly and could feel his face flushing in anger. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, ready to strike. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would have done if someone else hadn’t pushed their way into the washroom right at that moment, looking back and forth between Neil and Jean curiously.

Neil didn’t remember leaving the washroom or heading back out to the reception; suddenly he found himself standing in front of Andrew who was still seated at the bar. The stool he was on gave him a couple inches of height on Neil.

He looked at Neil without expression for a beat before huffing an annoyed breath. He reached out slowly, telegraphing his movements, and when Neil didn’t flinch away he wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and squeezed.

The pressure grounded Neil, made him feel more present.

“Okay?” asked Andrew under his breath.

“I’m fine,” Neil replied automatically.

“Sure you are,” said Andrew dryly. “This is what a well-adjusted, content person looks like.” His eyes flicked over Neil’s shoulder and his mouth thinned to a flat line. He let go of Neil’s neck and brought up his other hand to fiddle with Neil’s tie and fix the collar of his shirt.

“I noticed that Sara made sure to put herself between you and the food,” he said. “I guess you weren’t lying about spilling stuff all over her.”

Neil barked a surprised laugh. “She’s learned her lesson. Can you imagine what she’d do to me if I ruined her wedding dress?”

“I’d put money on her over you in a fight.”

“So would I,” said Neil. “Did you see her biceps? She’d reduce me into a paste.”

Andrew’s gaze again momentarily shifted into the distance. He smoothed his hands along Neil’s shoulders and let him go, turning back to his drink. “Did you find out when the cake is being served? The sooner we can leave, the better.”

“About twenty minutes,” said Neil. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“I didn’t do anything,” replied Andrew.


	3. The Wedding of Aaron Minyard and Katelyn Park

##### May

_One: I read the entire Harry Potter series in a week_, Neil texted. _Two: I read the Lord of the Rings trilogy while sick and it gave me fever dreams. Three: If I were a Percy Jackson demigod, I’d be a son of Hades._

**All lies**, Andrew texted back. **Do you expect me to believe you can read?**

Neil grinned. He and Andrew had been irregularly texting back and forth since Laila’s wedding, usually incorporating stuff from their days into their two truths and a lie game. Today Neil had a different motivation. _I have some questions about the wedding this weekend if you don’t mind_, he wrote.

**Bring me food and we’ll see**, replied Andrew.

Neil rolled his eyes. He could just text the questions but it wouldn’t hurt to ask them in person. He’d been planning on picking up takeout for dinner anyway, and his bus stopped near Andrew’s place. _Allergies?_ he double-checked.

**Small talk**, was the response.

When Andrew opened the door to Neil’s knock, he was clearly surprised. He looked from Neil to the bag of Thai food in his arms and then back to Neil.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” he said.

“I can take my food and go,” offered Neil.

Andrew opened his door wider and let Neil in, taking the food from him. “Shoes off,” he said. “You know, bringing me food on demand is a dangerous precedent to set.” He headed into his dining nook, placed the bag on the table, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Neil took the opportunity to look around his place. It wasn’t quite what he expected from Andrew. The room was tastefully decorated and the furniture was of good quality, not cheap Ikea stuff. It was also meticulously neat, everything in its proper place.

“Drink?” called Andrew from the kitchen.

“Water,” replied Neil. “Or milk if you have it.”

Andrew returned with table settings, a glass of milk, and a suspicious expression. “Spicy?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s only pad thai and yellow curry. Plus, like, a truckload of spring rolls. But calcium is good for your bones.”

“So is not breaking them,” said Andrew, laying out a couple plates.

“Ah,” said Neil sagely, “so you’ve decided that I was telling the truth about how many bones I’ve broken.”

Andrew didn’t reply, busy dishing out the food. They ate in companionable silence for a couple minutes before Andrew broke it.

“You have questions?”

Neil nodded. “About who I should know and how you want me to act and what you want me to wear,” he said.

Andrew’s expression turned vacant, as if he was looking at something past Neil’s head. “You can wear the suit you wore to the last wedding,” he said after several moments of thought. “But pair it with that silvery-blue button down you wore last time we met for lunch. And… what ties do you own?”

“Uhhh, a black one?” said Neil. “A silver one with stripes, I think they’re blue. And… hmmm. One with the Cat in the Hat on it?”

Andrew’s expression was flat. “I’ll lend you something. Remind me to get it before you leave.”

“Can you, uh, can you tie it first?” asked Neil sheepishly. “I don’t actually know how. Jean used to do it for me, and now I just loosen the knot slightly to take them off.”

“YouTube exists,” said Andrew, closing his eyes briefly. “Just come here before the wedding and I’ll tie it for you.”

“My hero,” said Neil, batting his eyes. “Any lies you want me to tell your family?”

“Just that we’re dating.” Andrew shook his head ruefully. “Nicky’s going to screech.”

“That’s your cousin, right? And your brother who’s getting married is Aaron? Is there anyone else whose names I should be familiar with?”

“Nicky’s boyfriend is named Erik and the bride is Katelyn. I don’t know anyone else, but I’ll warn you right now that my cousin’s going to be nosy.” He grimaced. “I don’t know why he’s so preoccupied with me being in a relationship.”

“Amatonormativity,” said Neil. “My friend Robin is aro and she complains about it all the time. People don’t understand that she prefers solitude.”

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“You want to get back with Loverboy,” said Andrew, waving a hand.

“Yeah,” agreed Neil. “I mean… yeah. We’ve been together my entire adult life until now. I miss being part of a unit, of sharing responsibilities. Cooking for one is terrible. And it was nice that there was always someone guaranteed to have my back, you know?” He didn’t like living alone but he wasn’t sure what he missed more: Jean, or simply having a warm body around. Which sounded uncharitable but he wasn’t in the best mood with Jean ever since their last interaction.

“Not really,” said Andrew.

Neil shrugged. “To each his own.”

“I’m not… opposed to being in a relationship,” said Andrew slowly, after a pause. “But it’s not really a high priority for me. Firstly, I’d have to find someone who keeps my interest and who I don’t mind having in my space and who actually wants me for me. It’s a big ask and I’ve never met anyone who fits the bill before. I won’t be super fussed if I never find him. Hookups are quick and clean.”

“They shouldn't be super quick or clean if you’re doing it right,” quipped Neil.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve been told,” said Neil. “So as far as your cousin knows, I’m your first-ever boyfriend?”

“I warned you he’ll be awful. And my brother’s probably going to be hostile, if he bothers to pay attention to anything except his blushing bride.” Andrew’s tone was sardonic.

“Why would he be hostile to your boyfriend when you’re _clearly_ so accepting of his girlfriend?” Neil asked sarcastically.

“It’s not the same,” argued Andrew. “We had a deal to stick together and he broke it by dating her. Of course I wasn’t happy about it.” The tips of his ears turned red and he looked down at his plate.

Neil watched him thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re not in the wedding party or going to the rehearsal dinner?”

Andrew shrugged. “Probably. Aaron tried to frame it like he’s doing me a favour.”

“Maybe he is,” suggested Neil lightly. “I’ve only known you for a short time but being at a social event with a bunch of strangers doesn’t particularly strike me as your cup of tea. Maybe he figured attending the wedding was enough.”

Andrew shook his head and didn’t reply. Neil let the topic drop; he didn’t have any siblings but he had his fair share of difficult familial relationships. He wasn’t going to pry.

They finished up their food not long afterwards; Neil packed up half the leftovers to take with him.

“What do I owe you for the food?” asked Andrew as Neil put his shoes on.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Neil. “You can get me back next time.”

He half expected Andrew to scoff at the idea of ‘next time’ but he only nodded once in agreement.

“Get here by two on Saturday,” he instructed. “I’ll tie your tie and try to fix that weird cowlick thing your hair does.”

“It’s a losing battle,” Neil told him. “It’s best to accept defeat now.”

* * *

Andrew seemed mollified when Neil showed up on time dressed as he’d instructed. He, on the other hand, was slightly dishevelled and far from unruffled.

“You okay?” asked Neil, a little disconcerted at seeing Andrew agitated.

Andrew didn’t reply, he simply looped a tie around Neil’s neck and used it to pull him forward.

“Yerk,” Neil squawked in response. “Got it. No questions.”

“Turn around,” commanded Andrew. “I can’t tie it backwards. Also, crouch.”

“Awww, are you too short?” cooed Neil. He was abruptly cut off from more teasing by Andrew forcefully tightening the tie. “Have you got a thing for bondage? Do you want to tie me up?”

Andrew made a strange choking sound and his hands went momentarily slack. He resumed tying the tie after a moment, not bothering to be gentle. “I hate you,” he said.

Neil chuckled.

Once the tie was secure, Andrew pushed him away and spun him around. He fruitlessly tried to smooth Neil’s hair and then gave up in resignation. “I guess you look acceptable,” he eventually conceded.

“Don’t go giving out too many compliments, now,” said Neil dryly. “I might get cocky.”

Andrew ignored him and ushered him down to his car; Neil knew better than to argue about which car they would take (plus he’d really enjoyed getting the drive the powerful sports car back from Laila’s wedding and was actually looking forward to being the DD later that evening).

They didn’t talk much as they headed downtown, Andrew incredibly preoccupied. The wedding was being held in a fancy hotel; a small chapel-like room for the ceremony and the ballroom for the reception.

“Okay,” said Andrew, parking his car in the visitors’ lot. “We’ll avoid my cousin for as long as possible. Hopefully we can put off his interference for a couple hours.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” promised Neil.

They got out of the car and took two steps away from it.

“Andrew!” cried a joyous voice.

“What the fuck,” muttered Andrew. “I expected to last a little longer.”

“Instant fail,” agreed Neil, looking up at the tall Latino man making a beeline for them. He was followed by an even taller buff, blond man at a more sedate pace.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” shouted the man who must be Andrew’s cousin Nicky. “I was so sure you’d bail.”

“It’s Aaron’s wedding,” said Andrew stiffly.

“You skipped the rehearsal dinner.”

“Aaron didn’t invite me.” Andrew’s tone didn’t invite further questions.

Apparently Nicky was immune. “Really?” he said dubiously. “He told me you didn’t want to go.”

“Nicky, give your cousin a chance to breathe,” said the buff, blond man in a German-accented voice. “He just got here.”

“Right,” said Nicky, slightly abashed. His attention transferred to Neil. “And who’s _this_?” he asked.

“This is my boyfriend, Neil,” said Andrew, his tone blase.

Neil waved. “Hi, you must be Nicky.”

Nicky’s jaw dropped in surprise that lasted a couple seconds before he moved in to hug Neil, who tensed in anticipation.

“Nicky,” said Andrew sharply. “Not everyone enjoys being tackle-hugged by strangers.”

Nicky stopped, looking stricken, before he plastered his grin back on. He offered Neil his hand.

“I _am_ Nicky,” he said happily as Neil shook his hand. “And this is my fiance Erik. It's so nice to meet you!”

Neil also shook hands with the big German guy. “Andrew tells me you’re getting married in July. Is it just a coincidence that you and Aaron are getting married so close together?”

Nicky laughed as they turned to head into the hotel. “No; Erik and I set the date about two years ago. I wanted to make sure that Aaron could come and until last month he was a med student. I knew the only way to guarantee he was free was to get married in the small window between his graduation and the start of his residency. Of course, his girlfriend had the same idea for their wedding!” His laughter sounded slightly forced. “Are you coming to our wedding?” he asked.

“Uh,” said Neil, because he and Andrew hadn’t actually discussed whether they’d go to any more weddings together.

“Yes,” said Andrew. He reached out and took Neil’s hand, grasping it tightly for a second before letting go. Neil took it for a request not to argue, which he hadn’t been planning on doing. He didn’t actually mind spending time at weddings with Andrew. Plus this way he had a date to Matt and Dan’s wedding next month.

“Oh, that’s great!” Nicky enthused. “It’s going to be a four day extravaganza; we’re going to have so much fun.”

“Four days?” asked Neil weakly. That seemed excessive, even for Nicky whose whole personality seemed to be founded on being excessive.

“Well the wedding itself is Sunday the 3rd,” said Nicky. “But on the Friday night we have our joint bachelor parties and Saturday is the rehearsal dinner. Then on Monday we’re taking advantage of the Independence Day holiday to have a brunch gift opening at our house! You’re invited to everything.”

“That sounds like… a lot,” said Neil. Andrew turned to look at him; although his face was as still and unconcerned as ever, there was something almost pleading in his expression. “But I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Great!” said Nicky happily. He looked curiously around the hotel lobby. “Wow, this place is fancy. Katelyn’s parents must be loaded.” He turned to Andrew. “There’s even valet parking, did you see? Although I know you never let anyone else touch your car.”

“Really?” asked Neil, surprised.

“Letting you drive it is a lesser evil than getting in your car,” said Andrew, his tone almost playful.

Nicky’s eyes went very round as he glanced between Neil and Andrew. Before he could say anything, Erik wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Shall we go find seats?” he asked.

“I want to make sure we’re near the front,” agreed Nicky. “I don’t trust Aaron to have reserved good seats for us. Coming, Andrew?”

“In a couple minutes,” said Andrew.

“We’ll save you a spot,” promised Nicky, heading into the room where the ceremony was taking place.

Once he was gone, Andrew slumped a little and looked around with a sigh.

“You okay?” asked Neil.

Andrew immediately bristled again. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Neil shrugged and propped himself up against the nearest wall next to a large potted plant, blocked from view of the arriving guests. If Andrew didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering him, he wasn’t going to make him. He glanced around at the decor, wondering if it was all Katelyn’s doing or if it was to Aaron’s taste. He couldn’t imagine Andrew agreeing to a big fancy wedding like this, but then again he had no idea how similar his twin’s personality was to his own.

“Did you and Aaron used to switch places to confuse people when you were kids?” he asked. He knew they were identical but he was having trouble picturing Aaron from the little he knew about him.

Andrew leaned on the wall next to him and averted his gaze. “We didn’t meet until we were teenagers.”

“What, really?”

“We were separated at birth.”

“And I thought _my_ childhood was ripped from a soap opera.”

Andrew scoffed. When he spoke again, it was much softer, “I’m not ready; I thought we’d have more time.”

“You and Aaron?” Neil clarified. “Because correct me if I’m wrong but this is a wedding, not a ritualistic murder. I’m pretty sure you’re both still going to be alive afterwards.”

“He’s moving away for his residency.”

“I found that my relationship with my mother improved exponentially when we started living in different cities,” Neil offered.

“We’ll probably never speak again.”

“Don’t act like you’re not one of the two people involved,” said Neil, rolling his eyes. “You could offer him an olive branch; you know, suggest you go visit him sometime or play nice with his wife. This doesn’t have to be the end if you don’t want it to be.”

Andrew didn’t reply and Neil fell silent, not wanting to overstep.

A few minutes later, Andrew breathed out through his nose harshly and patted his pockets. “Fuck, I could use a cigarette.”

“One of your truths was that you quit.”

“A drink, then,” said Andrew petulantly. “I knew I should have snuck in a flask.”

Neil surveyed their surroundings and got an idea. “Come on,” he said, heading to the large ballroom. "Since you never got to do a twin swap in your youth, we'll do it now."

"What?" asked Andrew, taken off guard, but he followed after Neil regardless.

The ballroom was still in the process of being set up, event staff bustling around.

“I’m sorry, sir, but guests are not allowed in here right now,” said a woman hurrying over to them as they entered the room.

“We’re not guests!” said Neil, affronted. “This is the groom! And he needs a drink.” He theatrically gestured at Andrew.

The woman looked between them hesitantly. “Are you sure? I don’t—” she started to say.

“How many five foot blond men do you think are running around?” demanded Neil. “This man is about to get _married_. He’s about to pledge his life to another person! And you won’t even help him calm his nerves with a whisky on the rocks?!”

Andrew jabbed him in the back. “Neat,” he hissed.

“He _needs_ a glass of your most expensive whisky, neat,” corrected Neil. “What if he panics and leaves the bride at the altar? Do you want to be responsible for the wedding being ruined?”

“Fine,” sighed the woman, now looking vaguely panicked and frazzled. She gestured them toward the bar. “Just be quick about it.”

They got Andrew’s drink and left the room, reclaiming their spot along the wall next to the ficus. Andrew sipped slowly, lost in his own thoughts.

“Okay,” he said when his drink was finished, tossing the empty glass into the plant pot. “I’m ready now.”

Neil nodded and took a step away before Andrew caught his sleeve. He looked back at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Thanks,” said Andrew, glaring down at his shoes.

Neil smiled lopsidedly. “I didn’t do anything,” he replied.


	4. The Wedding of Matthew Boyd and Danielle Wilds

##### June

“You know…” said Neil thoughtfully, shoving the last of his slice of pizza into his mouth. “I think it’s better that Faramir was seduced by the power of the ring in the movie.”

Andrew tightened his jaw and didn’t answer.

“Because he’s a pretty weak character—”

“You’re wrong, stop talking,” snapped Andrew.

Neil grinned at having gotten a response. Andrew wasn’t good at ignoring him when he spouted opinions that directly contradicted Andrew’s own. Neil had gotten better at figuring out exactly what to say to irritate him into speaking.

Andrew had showed up with dinner at Neil’s place the week after Aaron’s wedding to pay Neil back for the Thai food. He’d given Neil’s apartment an unimpressed once over and then looked back to Neil with a single raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know how long I’m staying here for; my lease isn’t that long,” said Neil defensively. “Besides, when my friends move in together next month and consolidate their things, I’ll get what they don’t want.”

Andrew shrugged and shouldered his way inside. “I brought Indian,” he said.

During their conversation, it had come to light that Neil had never seen the movie versions of Lord of the Rings, despite having read the entire series more than once. The next time they got together (Neil bringing dinner to Andrew’s again), Andrew unearthed his extended edition DVDs and they ate in front of the television, watching the first half of the first movie. Since then, they’d made a weekly habit of it: getting together for food and a movie every Thursday. Neil looked forward to it; it was a nice change from eating alone.

The only problem was that Andrew preferred to watch movies in complete silence. Neil tended to interject sarcastic comments and he’d made it his goal to make Andrew acknowledge him. Andrew hadn’t stabbed him yet, so he assumed he didn’t mind Neil’s efforts.

Now that he had Andrew’s attention, he asked, “You see Aaron this week?” Andrew had taken Aaron aside during his wedding; Neil didn’t know what they said to each other, but Andrew came away from it seemingly settled and content. Nicky had practically burst into tears when Andrew told them that he and Aaron made plans to get together before Aaron moved.

Andrew frowned but nodded. “We got lunch. He invited me to his place for Thanksgiving.”

“That’s good.”

Andrew grunted once and reached over to take the remote to increase the volume of the television. Evidently they were finished speaking about it.

Less than half an hour later, a loud, panicked knocking on Neil’s door interrupted the movie. He paused it while sharing a confused look with Andrew. He had no idea who would be at his door; very few people even knew where he lived.

“Neil, open up, I’m having a crisis,” Matt called, effectively solving the mystery.

Neil got up to let him in. Matt pushed past him and collapsed on his loveseat (which had been a fortunate curb rescue), leaning his head back and covering his eyes. Andrew stood up as Matt sat, clearing their plates and heading into the kitchen.

“What is it?” asked Neil, perching on the arm of the loveseat. He assumed Andrew was making a stealthy getaway and he was disappointed that their movie night had ended early.

“I’m getting married next week,” said Matt.

“Yeeeees…” said Neil, drawing the word out. “Which you’re very happy about.”

“I just, I can’t do it.”

“You can’t marry your best friend and the love of your life?” asked Neil, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t particularly worried; Matt periodically indulged in melodrama, and getting married gave him a good excuse.

“I’m definitely not good enough for her,” moaned Matt. “I should leave her alone; let her find someone she deserves.”

Andrew reappeared, carrying the bottle of whisky he’d brought over and left in Neil’s cupboard. He poured a healthy amount into a tumbler and pushed it into Matt’s hands, before pouring himself a glass and retaking his seat in the reclining armchair Allison had bought for Neil a couple weeks previously, claiming she needed somewhere to sit while visiting his rathole (Andrew absolutely refused to go anywhere near the loveseat, convinced it had rabies).

“Thanks,” said Matt, taking a big gulp.

“You’re definitely not good enough for Dan,” said Neil.

“Hey!” exclaimed Matt. Then, dejectedly, “...yeah, you’re right.”

“Harsh,” muttered Andrew.

Neil smiled conspiratorially at him and continued talking to Matt, “But, then, who is?”

“No one,” said Matt morosely. “She’s the best.”

“She is. In fact, Dan is so great she deserves to pick whoever she wants.”

“Uh huh.”

“She picked you, dumbass,” said Neil, poking Matt’s thigh with his toes. “She’s the smart one. Trust her.”

Matt took another deep drink. “She _is_ smart,” he conceded. “And beautiful. And talented. She probably knows what she’s doing.”

“Exactly. Let her do the thinking. You’re not great at it.”

Matt sighed and leaned his head on Neil’s knees. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” said Neil. “You’re going to go home and be calm and get married next week and be radiantly happy.”

“Okay.”

“Good, because you’re my best friend and I will be sad if Dan peels off your skin for ruining the wedding she’s been planning for over a year.”

Matt snorted and finished his drink. He looked down in consternation at it, as if just noticing it. “Why do you have alcohol?” he asked. He looked around and did a double take when he caught sight of Andrew. “Why is there a strange man here?”

“That's Andrew,” said Neil. “He’s my date to your wedding.”

“Right,” said Matt enthusiastically. “Dan’s been wanting to ask you about him, but we’ve just been so busy with everything.”

“Oh, no,” said Neil insincerely, “I’m so sad I missed her interrogation.”

Matt elbowed him and offered his hand to Andrew. “Hey, man, nice to meet you.”

Andrew surveyed his hand for a moment before taking a sip of his own drink. Then, he purposefully reached out and shook once.

“Are you coming to the rehearsal dinner?” asked Matt. “You should! Neil’s going to sit alone in a corner all night otherwise.”

“We haven’t discussed it,” said Neil, who had maybe sort of forgotten (and/or wilfully ignored) that he was expected to attend the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s being catered by Joey’s,” cajoled Matt.

Andrew wavered slightly. Joey’s was a well-known, if costly, local restaurant that had earned its reputation for delicious food.

“Don’t let him bribe you; you don’t have to go,” said Neil.

“Are you still coming to Nicky’s extravaganza?” asked Andrew, his tone mocking.

“If you want me to,” answered Neil.

“Then I’ll go with you,” Andrew conceded.

“Yes!” cheered Matt. With everything settled, Matt seemed to suddenly notice his surroundings and the lack of furnishings. “Neil,” he said, censuring.

“I’ve been waiting for you and Dan to move into your new place,” Neil said quickly, forestalling his reprimand at the barely-liveable state of his apartment. “You’ll have stuff you want to get rid of, right? Especially after you receive all your wedding gifts.”

“Fine,” said Matt, not sounding completely convinced.

“I promise it’ll get better soon,” said Neil. “Look!” he continued, pointing at the TV as a distraction. “Lord of the Rings!”

“Ooo,” cooed Matt. “You’re finally watching it? Nice. Do you mind if I stay and watch with you?”

Neil looked to Andrew, who shrugged and unpaused the movie. “As long as you’re quiet,” he bargained.

“Don’t count on it,” said Neil, pushing Matt over and sliding onto the loveseat beside him.

* * *

“And now I’d like to ask the best man, Neil, to come up and say a few words,” said the MC. Neil forgot her name; she was one of Dan’s so-called “stage sisters” who she met at the strip club where she’d worked to put herself through college.

Neil grimaced and sent a despairing look to Andrew who, despite not moving his face in any discernible fashion, suddenly seemed to be laughing at him. Neil had actually been having a good time at the reception so far; although he loved his friends he didn’t like large gatherings, they made him anxious and awkward. He always found himself on the outside looking in, observing more than participating. Jean had been great company for him in the past, also preferring to remain quietly on the outskirts. Luckily Andrew did, too. The rehearsal dinner had been endurable, despite Neil’s initial misgivings.

The ceremony itself had been a little uncomfortable; standing next to Matt made Neil feel as if he was the centre of attention, all the curious eyes on him. He kept his focus on Dan’s blindingly happy grin and Matt’s tears and ignored everyone else. But now he had to make a speech. The things he did for friendship.

He took a deep breath and approached the microphone.

“If you keep it to twenty words or under, I’m going to win a bet,” declared Allison loudly. “I’ll split my winnings with you.”

Neil winked and tipped his champagne glass towards her as laughter rippled through the room. This was even worse than the ceremony; everyone’s eyes were _definitely_ on him now. He caught sight of Jean, sitting with his date, and faltered slightly. He forced himself to look away, glancing to Andrew briefly. His hazel eyes were steady and Neil took comfort from them.

He cleared his throat and turned to face Matt and Dan, who were both watching him with fond smiles. “You two have been each other’s family since I met you,” he said in a rush. “All you did today was make it official. Congratulations.” He raised his glass to them.

There was an echoing silence, before Allison gleefully exclaimed, “I win!”

The room erupted in laughter and others’ champagne glasses were raised. Andrew was definitely looking amused as Neil hurried back to his seat and collapsed into it.

“You’re the mouthiest person I’ve ever met,” he said in an undertone.

“That can’t possibly be true; you know Nicky.”

“You have a response for everything. There’s no way you’re afraid of public speaking.”

“Hey, if I was roasting one of them, there wouldn’t be a problem,” said Neil. “Once I lose my temper I also lose my self-consciousness. But they wanted me to be sincere. Ick.”

“That was you being sincere?”

“I said congratulations,” protested Neil. “Besides, all Matt told me was that I had to say _something_. If they really cared what I said, Dan would have given me a script.”

The maid of honour got up to speak next (another one of Dan’s stage sisters). Her speech was teary and heartfelt and lasted for forty minutes.

“And _you_ didn’t like _my_ speech,” Neil muttered to Andrew.

“I loved your speech. Your speech was the best wedding speech of all time,” Andrew replied in a monotone.

“You’re laying it on a little thick.”

“All future speeches should be written by you.”

“Fuck off,” said Neil with a chuckle.

Once the speeches were over, Neil got roped into a couple hundred more pictures (Dan had already threatened him more than once that day for squirming uncomfortably and ruining her wedding photos—the photographer had argued, saying Neil was actually incredibly photogenic and gave him such a lascivious look that Neil squirmed even more and tried to hide behind Matt). First there had been pictures before the ceremony at the church; afterwards, there had been more pictures in the nearby botanical gardens. And now, even more pictures at the reception. Neil felt a little guilty for leaving Andrew alone, but he didn’t seem to mind. He’d simply amused himself on his phone while waiting and kept Neil company between shots.

Once the staged pictures were (finally) finished, Matt grabbed him in a hug that lifted him off his feet and swung him around in a circle.

“Neil, I’m married!” he said joyously, his face rapt.

“I noticed; I was there,” said Neil dryly, or as dryly as he could while being twirled around.

“I’m so happy!”

“I’m happy for you, but if you don’t put me down I’m going to hurl on your tux.”

Matt put him down at that; Neil staggered until Dan propped him up. “I liked your speech,” she said teasingly.

“Thank you,” replied Neil. “I put a lot of time and energy into it.”

Dan rested her cheek on top of his head. “I know you’ve hated basically every single minute of today, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I haven’t,” said Neil unconvincingly.

“Matt tells me that you’re living in squalor and entertaining gentlemen callers,” she continued. “After we’re back from our honeymoon, we’re going to talk about this.”

“Joy,” said Neil. “Are you sure we can’t take more pictures and call it even?”

“Not a chance,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Now, go back to brooding with your date. I officially release you from your duties.”

He hugged her tightly. “Love you, Dan.” Matt seemed to get jealous that Neil was paying so much attention to Dan (although Neil wasn’t quite sure which of them he was jealous of—probably both, knowing Matt) and wrapped himself around them. “You, too, Matt,” huffed Neil, muffled.

Neil detoured to where Allison was seated on his way back to Andrew. “You owe me half your winnings; don’t think I forgot,” he said.

“I knew I could count on you being an antisocial weirdo,” said Allison. “We’ll go out for lunch next week.”

“I’d prefer cash.”

“You don’t even know what I bet. What if it was a sexual favour? You want half a blow job?”

“Depends who from,” countered Neil. “And which half.” Allison gave him a flat look. “What?” he shrugged. “The second half would be okay; I could get myself started.”

Allison laughed. “I’ll get you your ten dollars, you little gremlin.”

When heading back to his seat, he spied that Kevin had accosted Andrew. He made another stop, speaking briefly to the DJ before collapsing next to Andrew.

“Your speech was despicable,” said Kevin instantly.

“Lovely to see you, too, Kevin,” drawled Neil. He glanced at Andrew. “Is he bothering you?”

“Beyond the telling.” There was a beat. “Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“Deal with it yourself,” grinned Neil. “I know you’re more than capable.”

“You two seem to be getting along,” said Kevin peevishly. “I guess I’m good at matchmaking.”

“We hate each other,” said Andrew.

“Total nemeses,” added Neil. “Like a superhero and a supervillain.”

Andrew cut his eyes toward him. “Which of us is which?”

“I think it’s perfectly obvious,” said Neil loftily.

“Is it?”

“You’re clearly the hero.” Given Andrew’s protective streak, it was the role that fit him best.

Andrew’s face slackened slightly, before he recovered his habitual blank expression. “And you’re a villain? You don’t dress well enough.”

“Pshaw, I’m a Machiavellian mastermind,” argued Neil. “Also, I love giving monologues about how great I am.”

“If that was true, your speech would have been better,” interjected Kevin.

“Ah, but that was about how great _other_ people are,” said Neil sagely. “I learned how to give a compliment from you.”

“Still,” said Kevin crabbily, “you could have put in a modicum of effort—” He cut himself off as the opening strains of _What Makes You Beautiful_ drifted over the sound system. He paled immediately and grabbed at his drink, chugging it.

Andrew sent Neil a sharp look which he responded to by smiling smugly. He looked away from Andrew’s narrow-eyed suspicion, only to find himself catching Jean’s gaze. Jean pointed a finger at him and furrowed his brow. Neil shrugged sheepishly and nodded, which made Jean scoff, shake his head, and raise his glass approvingly. His eyes were warm and the beginning of a soft smile spread over his face. Neil felt a pang in his chest as he raised his glass of sparkling soda in return.

“Why?” moaned Kevin, reclaiming Neil’s attention.

He started a little at the reminder that he wasn’t alone. “Maybe don’t annoy those who know you as well as I do?” he said, after a brief pause to try to put Jean out of his thoughts.

Kevin was affronted. “What have I done to annoy you?” he demanded.

“In the last two minutes, or farther back?” asked Neil.

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“I am what I was raised to be,” replied Neil, sneaking a glance at Andrew who’d gone silent. He was staring into his drink looking contemplative.

Neil nudged him with his elbow. “Told you I wasn’t lying,” he mock-whispered.

“Everything you say is a lie,” countered Andrew.

“Nah,” said Neil easily. “Only most things.”


	5. The Wedding of Nicholas Hemmick and Erik Klose

##### July

There were less than two weeks between Matt and Dan’s wedding and Nicky’s Weekend Wedding Extravaganza (which was actually what he was calling it—he’d finagled Neil’s number from Andrew and sent him an official invitation).

Much to his chagrin, the first week Neil had to cancel his and Andrew’s regular Thursday dinner due to a last minute work emergency. He worked in the graphic design department of an advertising agency; mostly he liked his work but he could do without the tight deadlines that periodically forced long hours.

The next Thursday was still Neil’s turn to get to food. He texted Andrew early in the afternoon to see if he had any particular cravings. _What do you want for eats?_

Andrew’s response was slow coming, and when it did all it read was, **flkjsfhd**.

Neil stared at his phone in consternation for a couple beats before shrugging and pressing call.

Andrew answered by saying, “What?” in a growly voice before breaking into a hacking cough and sneezing three times in quick succession.

“Are you dying?” Neil asked when he was quiet.

“I wish.”

“So… you seem healthy,” teased Neil.

“Fuck you,” replied Andrew, although due to his blocked nose it sounded more like “fug youd”.

“Shit,” said Neil in realization, sitting forward. “What are you going to do about Nicky’s innumerable wedding events this weekend?”

“Chug a bottle of Dayquil and lurch around like a zombie.”

“Solid plan,” approved Neil. “Do you want me to bring you anything tonight? You sound awful.”

“Nah, I’m going to pass out now to prepare for tomorrow. Come by around six.”

“What should I wear?”

“Tell Reynolds you need club clothes.” With that, Andrew hung up and Neil was left feeling unaccountably disappointed, despite the fact that he was going to see Andrew each of the next four days.

* * *

Andrew did not appear better when Neil arrived the next day, his nose red and irritated and his eyes shining the glassy, vacant look of someone who had consumed copious volumes of cold medication.

“I’m sure Nicky will understand if you can’t—”

“No,” cut in Andrew stubbornly. “I said I’ll go and I’ll go.” He shivered violently to punctuate his words.

“Okay, but maybe put on a sweater?” suggested Neil.

Andrew blearily looked down at his clothing; he was wearing armbands but his biceps were on display. “This is my club shirt. It makes me look hot.”

“It does,” agreed Neil, because he wasn’t blind and wow Andrew had impressive guns, “but wouldn’t you rather be warm?” He snagged a black hoodie thrown haphazardly across the back of Andrew’s couch, holding it out enticingly. He wanted to wrap Andrew in a blanket and bundle him and his germs into bed (and subsequently far away from himself), so he felt he was showing considerable restraint.

“I have to look hot,” reiterated Andrew.

“Then put on the hoodie. Right now you look cold.”

Andrew glared at him, but given how unfocused his eyes were it had little effect.

“Plus, what does it matter?” asked Neil in exasperation. “It’s not like you’re looking to hook up tonight.”

“I could be,” said Andrew petulantly.

Neil snorted. “Right. Even if your whole—” He waved a hand to indicate Andrew’s entire being “—doesn’t put them off, your nose is plugged. How will you even breathe with a cock in your mouth? Plus who are you even hypothetically hooking up with? Aren’t you trying to convince Nicky that you and I are dating?”

“I hate you,” Andrew humphed.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry for using logic.”

Andrew, looking like the human embodiment of Grumpy Cat, very reluctantly pulled on the hoodie.

“There you go, Casanova,” said Neil. “Now, come on. I’m driving.”

It was a testament to how poorly Andrew was feeling that he handed over his keys without protest.

* * *

It was amazing what could be achieved through sheer determination and stubbornness. For the third night in a row, Neil watched as Andrew toughed his way through a social event when he would clearly rather be at home in bed. It was probably fortuitous that he was only suffering from a head cold; Neil assumed that he’d be just as set on fulfilling his promise to Nicky to attend even if he was dying from Ebola or had been dismembered or something. He wondered if his mixed feelings of worry, annoyance, and awe were similar to how his own friends felt when he insisted on ignoring his own illnesses.

They’d made it most of the way through the reception; Andrew had spent the ceremony alternating between sniffling, coughing, and napping on Neil’s shoulder. Neil knew he should be keeping his distance—he had no time to get sick right now—but there was something about sad, sick Andrew that made him feel unaccountably protective.

Dinner, much like the previous evening’s rehearsal dinner, was spent protecting his own plate from Andrew’s germs while Andrew stared at his food forlornly, complaining that he wasn’t hungry and that the food had no flavour. He’d spent three nights without enjoying food or being able to consume alcohol and Neil thought he was close to his breaking point. They probably only has to stay here for another hour or so, and Neil was searching for something to help Andrew last that long.

“Do you have any hot drinks?” he asked a member of the catering staff, after flagging her down near the bar.

“We will be serving coffee with dessert, sir,” she said professionally.

“Something without caffeine?” asked Neil. “It’s just—” He gestured helplessly across the room at Andrew who was miserably wiping his nose with a tissue and glaring. Not at anything in particular, just at the room in general as if to ensure it knew how unhappy he was.

The server softened minutely. “I think there might be some cocoa for the children,” she said. “Let me go check for you.”

“Thanks,” said Neil, taking a seat at the bar to wait for her.

“Neil?” said an unexpected and familiar voice behind him.

He whirled, not believing his ears. Jean wasn’t supposed to be here; he wasn’t prepared to see him right now. It made him feel like accidentally coming face to face with a coworker while shopping on the weekend: awkward and off balance.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jean.

“Nicky is Andrew’s cousin,” said Neil dumbly. “Why are you here?”

“Who is Andrew?” asked Jean instead of answering the question.

“Who do you think?” replied Neil testily. “How do you know Nicky and Erik?”

“I don’t; I’m a plus one,” said Jean, indicating an attractive man sitting not too far away from them. “Roland is a friend of Nicky’s.”

Neil nodded, feeling a little numb. “Are you having a good time?” he asked, then braced himself for the answer.

“Truthfully, no,” said Jean with a little chuckle, taking the stool next to Neil’s. “He’s a little too… energetic for me.”

Neil wasn’t sure if that was a euphemism and he definitely didn’t want to know if it was. He stiffened a little, remember what Jean had said to him the last time they spoke.

Jean tensed, too, almost as if he could hear the direction of Neil’s thoughts. “Hey,” he said, reaching out to grasp Neil’s shoulder. Neil considered shrugging him off, but his hand was familiar and comforting. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last time. I didn’t mean it.”

“You were trying to hurt me.”

“I was taken aback; I wasn’t expecting you to have found someone new.” His gaze swept over the room, landing on Andrew’s hunched form. “I regret it.”

Neil could practically feel his animosity melting. This was how it was with them; Jean always went for sharp words intended to cause damage when he was upset and was remorseful afterwards. Neil was used to it. Still, “Did you really dump me because I’m not overly interested in sex?” He had to know if all Jean’s previous assurances that nothing was wrong with him had all been lies.

“Of course not,” said Jean, his face earnest. “That was a low blow and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it, but I knew it was what would rankle most.”

“Asshole,” said Neil, but it came out sounding affectionate. “Why _did_ you break up with me, then? You never gave me a good reason.”

“It’s just—” Jean blew out a breath and gestured around the decorated room. “Everyone we know is getting married and they kept asking when we were going to follow suit. And I got scared—we’ve been together for so long, we’ve never been with anyone else. What if we were only staying together because of inertia? What if we were missing out?”

Neil looked away. “I was happy.”

“Mostly I was too, but I couldn’t help feeling that we were lacking something.” He sighed deeply. “For what it’s worth, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” admitted Neil reluctantly. “You were my best friend; I don’t like not seeing you every day.”

Jean gave him a small smile and opened his mouth to say something more when he was interrupted.

“Sir?” It was the same staff member from before, carrying a cup of hot cocoa.

“Thanks,” said Neil, taking it from her. “Well…” he said, looking up through his eyelashes at Jean. “I should probably take this to Andrew.”

Jean’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to Coach’s wedding next month?” Neil asked.

“I am.”

“I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Jean, his shoulders relaxing.

Neil weaved his way through the tables back to Andrew’s side, feeling pensive. “Look what I got for you,” he said with false cheer.

Andrew blinked fuzzily at Neil’s offering, before gingerly taking the cup and sipping at the cocoa. He nodded once in satisfaction. “What’s Loverboy doing here?” he croaked.

“You saw him, too?” asked Neil, surprised that Andrew was aware enough to notice anyone outside of his personal misery.

“Too?” asked Andrew.

“I just ran into him at the bar.”

Andrew’s expression indicated that he was trying to calculate complex mathematics in his head. “I know. I saw.”

“Oh,” said Neil. He hadn’t thought Andrew was paying attention. “He’s here on a date. Some guy named Roland.” He indicated the guy that Jean had shown him earlier.

Andrew inhaled his cocoa oddly and choked for a moment, before devolving into a coughing fit. Once that subsided, he gave Neil a wry look. “I used to hook up with him.”

“Who, Roland?” asked Neil. “My ex is dating yours?”

“He’s not my ex, just some guy I fooled around with,” protested Andrew.

“Still, it’s a little strange, isn’t it?” asked Neil. It felt strange. He didn’t quite like the situation, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He supposed he was just predisposed to disliking anyone Jean was seeing.

“What’s strange?” asked Aaron, approaching the table from the direction of the dance floor, his wife at his side. He and Katelyn had sat with Andrew and Neil through last night’s rehearsal dinner and the entire wedding reception. The twins had been quite cordial to each other, possibly due to Andrew’s illness causing him to space out.

“My ex is here with one of Andrew’s past conquests,” said Neil. Andrew elbowed him in the stomach. “Oof. Well, he _is_,” muttered Neil.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t comment. He’d been indifferent to Neil all evening, having gotten his threats out of the way the night before. “I don’t like you,” he’d said, “but Andrew seems smitten, so I’ll allow it. Just know that if you hurt him…”

Neil had scoffed at the shovel talk and wondered what Aaron was talking about with regards to Andrew’s feelings for Neil. Either Andrew was a better actor than he thought or Aaron didn’t know his brother all that well.

“Nicky says that it hurts to look at you,” Aaron told Andrew now. “You proved your point.” He glanced briefly at Neil. “Take my brother home, would you?” He managed the entire sentence with only a minor grimace.

“Oh, thank God,” said Neil in relief.

Katelyn looked at him askance.

“What?” asked Neil. “Hanging out with someone suffering from the plague is less fun than you may think.”

Andrew climbed shakily to his feet. “Text me when you get settled,” he told Aaron. He and Katelyn were moving the following week for their residencies.

Aaron swallowed and nodded. “You’re coming to visit in the fall, right?”

“For Thanksgiving,” agreed Andrew. He turned his bleary gaze onto Katelyn next. She and Aaron both tensed minutely. Andrew had been ignoring her existence until this moment. “Take care of my brother,” said Andrew. “And yourself. I don’t like it when anything happens to my family.”

“You, too,” she replied after a pause, surprise evident on her face.

“Okay, snot-face,” said Neil, grasping the sleeve of Andrew’s suit. “Let’s get you to bed.”

* * *

Neil trailed Andrew into his apartment, worried that he’d collapse without supervision.

“Gonna tuck me in?” said Andrew, in a tone that would have been derisive if he didn’t interrupt himself three times to sneeze.

“I have to make sure you’re alive to be my plus one next month,” joked Neil. “Go get ready for bed; you’re on the verge of collapse.”

Andrew didn’t resist, heading to his bedroom. He paused at the door. “Can you scoop the cat litter?” he asked unhappily.

“The things I do for you,” sighed Neil, as he did what Andrew asked. He hadn’t ever actually seen Andrew’s cat, but the litter did show signs of use so she probably wasn’t a figment of Andrew’s imagination. According to Andrew, his cat was not interested in meeting new people and spent the entirety of Neil’s visits to the apartment huddled in the back of Andrew’s closet or under his bed.

After he was finished, he gathered together a box of tissues, a couple bottles of water, a handful of granola bars, Andrew’s cold medication, and throat lozenges and placed them all in easy reach on Andrew’s bedside table. He also made sure that Andrew’s phone was plugged in and accessible.

Andrew lurched out of the washroom, squinting at his hoard of goodies before collapsing into bed.

“Shit,” muttered Neil. “I forgot that you have to get up to lock the door behind me.” So much for good intentions.

“Take the spare key,” said Andrew, waving his arm but not lifting his head. “On the second hook in the closet.”

“...Are you sure?” asked Neil, taken aback by the offering.

“Yes,” said Andrew grumpily. “Now go away. I want to be miserable alone.”

“Goodnight,” said Neil, with good humour. “I’ll be back tomorrow before Nicky’s brunch. What time is it, again? Eleven?”

“Eleven thirty.”

“Do you want me to bring anything?”

“More Dayquil,” said Andrew. “And popsicles.”

“You must be feeling better; that’s the first time you’ve asked me for anything other than death for days.”

Andrew just groaned. Neil let him be, shutting off the light before leaving the apartment and locking the door behind him.

* * *

Neil showed up at Andrew’s a little before eleven, balancing bags of supplies in addition to a tub of what he considered to be the best matzo ball soup in the city (he'd been incredibly lucky the deli was open, seeing as it was Independence Day) as he knocked. His phone buzzed directly after he did. Juggling his bags, he fished it out of his pocket to find a text from Andrew, **let yourself in**.

He did, almost dropping everything in the process.

Andrew was still wearing his pyjama pants and a hoodie and was snuggled under a blanket on his couch. He perked up ever so slightly when he saw what Neil was carrying, and made grabby hands at him. Neil passed over the tub of soup and went into the kitchen to find a spoon and put the popsicles in the freezer.

“Nicky texted at about 2am. It was a little incoherent but he says we don’t have to come today,” said Andrew hoarsely when Neil returned to him.

“Okay…” said Neil slowly, not particularly disappointed that he was missing the final event of the wedding extravaganza. “Do you want me to leave?”

“We could watch something,” said Andrew. He sounded as if he didn’t care either way and kept his attention focused on his soup, but Neil knew him well enough by now that he knew he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want Neil to stay.

“Alright,” said Neil easily. “Do you have a particular comfort movie or show that you watch while you’re sick?”

“Can we watch Top Gear,” Andrew suggested, sounding pathetic.

“The Tom Cruise fighter pilot movie?”

“The British reality show about cars,” corrected Andrew. Then, in a smaller voice, “I like fast cars.”

Neil shrugged. “I’m not familiar with it, but sure.” He moved to sit on the couch near Andrew’s feet.

Andrew nudged him before he could. “Make me tea,” he said.

“Oh, I see how it is,” laughed Neil, getting up to heat the kettle. “You just want a slave to do your bidding.”

“I’m sick,” said Andrew sullenly.

“Fine,” called Neil. “But next time I’m mildly unwell, you’re coming over to my place to dote on me.”

The day passed by easily, Andrew intermittently napping while they watched television. Neil quickly became obsessed with the show, his attention fully ensnared. Andrew’s cat made an appearance in the afternoon when Neil filled up her food bowl and then even consented to sit, loaf-shaped, in the same general vicinity as him. She pretended she wasn’t acknowledging him, but her ears followed his movement. When Andrew woke up and saw her, he expressed surprise at her presence.

“Your cat has accepted me,” said Neil sagely. “You’ll never be rid of me now.”


	6. The Wedding of David Wymack and Abigail Winfield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features alcohol and drunkenness and vague references to past child and spousal abuse.

##### August

Neil knocked on Andrew’s door just before five am. He knocked again after waiting a couple minutes before considering whether he should just let himself in and drag Andrew out of bed. He didn’t think Andrew kept knives on him while he slept, so he probably wouldn’t be stabbed. Still, it felt wrong to let himself into Andrew’s place, even if he had given him a key. Neil had tried to return it after Andrew recovered, but Andrew just shrugged and told him to keep it in case Andrew ever needed him to feed his cat (who now came _almost_ within arm’s reach of him when he visited; they were basically best friends).

While he stood indecisively in the hallway, the door was thrown open. A very disgruntled Andrew was glowering at him, wearing sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. He had pillow creases on his face and his hair was standing up in all directions, making it look even worse than Neil’s normally did. Neil hid a smile; Andrew had started dressing less-than-put-together around him ever since his illness. Neil assumed that since he’d already seen Andrew sick and snotty, he felt that he no longer needed to make an effort.

He knew better than to comment (which usually didn’t stop him) so he wordlessly handed over the extra-large cappuccino and chocolate pastry he’d picked up on his way over.

“You’re my favourite,” said Andrew fervently.

“...You’re talking to the coffee, aren’t you?”

Andrew blinked at him sleepily. “Who else would I be talking to?” He yawned and handed over his keys. “You drive.”

“You want me to carry your bags, too, your highness?” asked Neil sarcastically.

“Sure,” said Andrew, shoving his overnight bag at him.

“Did you miss the sarcasm?”

“Sarcasm isn’t allowed before five,” said Andrew, which Neil supposed was reasonable.

They were headed out of town. Although Kevin’s dad worked as a track coach at Neil’s college in the city, his fiancee was from Neil’s hometown, a tiny southwestern Virginian town about six hours outside of DC. Neil hadn’t wanted to pay for more than one night in a hotel, so he and Andrew were driving up for the wedding on Saturday morning and driving back the next day. That meant leaving bright and early if they didn’t want to be late for the early afternoon ceremony.

Andrew’s grumpiness was understandable and Neil was honestly confused why he hadn’t complained more when Neil told him the plan. He wasn’t sure the hassle of waking up super early to go out of town compared to attending Nicky’s wedding extravaganza, although Andrew claimed they were even. Neil was thankful that Andrew was such a good friend.

He took advantage of the empty roads and the powerful car (and the fact that Andrew was dozing in the passenger seat and couldn’t complain about Neil potentially wrecking said car) to drive as fast as he wanted (he may have channelled Top Gear and whisper-shouted “POWER!!!” as he accelerated). Andrew jerked awake after a couple hours, once the sun had properly risen, and blinked sleepily at the passing road signs.

“Breakfast?” he suggested.

Neil shrugged in agreement. He could eat.

He pulled in at the next roadside diner, which boasted “the best chocolate chip pancakes west of DC!” which he highly doubted, but seemed to intrigue Andrew. They were quickly seated by an overweight woman with a pack-a-day voice. Neil bypassed the famous pancakes but Andrew ordered a stack of them. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and deemed them acceptable.

Neil’s early morning was starting to catch up with him; he kept yawning as his sipped his coffee and spent an inordinate amount of time staring listlessly out the diner window at Andrew’s shiny car.

“Tell me about Palmetto,” Andrew said, distracting Neil from his unformed thoughts.

Neil blinked back to awareness. “It’s the type of place that people leave,” he said.

Andrew made a go-on gesture at him.

“It’s typical small-town America, where there’s not much to do and everyone is in everyone’s business,” explained Neil. “There’s nothing really wrong with it, but there are many better places to live.”

Andrew nodded in understanding. “Are there going to be people I know at the wedding?”

“Well, Kevin, obviously, since it’s his dad getting married,” said Neil. “And Dan and Matt, too, because Coach was a surrogate father figure to Dan all through college.”

“How is it that Kevin’s father was your track coach in college? You knew each other before, right?”

“Yeah, Kevin grew up in Palmetto with his mother. When she died, Coach took a leave of absence from his job at George Washington and moved down here to look after him—he didn’t want to add to his grief by making him move away from his home. He actually got a job at our high school for our junior and senior years and was the reason I got recruited to GWU. That’s where he met Abby—she was working as our school nurse then.”

Andrew nodded thoughtfully. “And… are your parents still in town?” he asked hesitantly. For all that Neil told anecdotes and stories about his childhood after he and his mother moved to Palmetto and he became friends with Kevin and Jean, he studiously avoided saying anything about his life prior to that, or talking about his mother all that much.

Andrew was the same. Although Neil had learned that he’d grown up in foster care until he and Aaron had accidentally run into each other and learned they were twins whose mother had given only one of them up for adoption, he almost never spoke of or referred to his life before college. Neither of them pried into the parts of their lives they were unwilling to share.

Neil absently spun his coffee mug in a circle and looked back out at Andrew’s car. It felt odd that Andrew didn’t know all of his history; they’d gotten so close recently that it sometimes felt like Andrew knew him better than anyone. But this was something he never spoke about, not even with Dan and Matt who had long been his closest friends. Jean and Kevin knew about it only because they had been present for the events.

“My father never lived in Palmetto,” he said stiltedly, still staring out the window directly into the glare off the hood of the car. “He was an abusive asshole—a low level thug in a street gang with delusions of grandeur who took out his frustrations on his family. My mom finally left him when I was eight and we moved to Palmetto. She wasn’t… she was a victim and her damage didn’t make her the best mom.” He shrugged helplessly. “She moved back home to Manchester after I left for college; our relationship is better now that it occurs over Skype.” He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, having told Andrew the bare bones of his past. He trusted that Andrew could read between the lines.

Andrew was quiet after Neil stopped talking. When Neil chanced a glance, there was a muscle working in his jaw, but his expression was as placid as usual.

“None of my foster homes were good,” he said eventually. “And Aaron’s mother wasn’t much better when I moved in with them. She died in a car accident our senior year of high school and I didn’t mourn her, which always pissed Aaron off.”

Neil nodded in understanding. He let the moment between them sit for a couple beats before draining his coffee and throwing enough cash on the table to cover their meals. “Shall we?” he asked.

Andrew took over driving once they returned to the car. He attached his phone to the stereo and started playing music that sounded to Neil as if it was made by the musicians loudly destroying their instruments.

“Let’s play a car game,” he suggested.

“Let’s not,” said Andrew.

Neil punched his shoulder. At the resulting glare, he grinned unrepentantly. “Punch buggy.”

“There was not,” argued Andrew. “Do that again and I’ll abandon you at the side of the road and go home.”

Neil managed to keep his silence for about thirty seconds. “We could play the license plate game.”

Andrew wordlessly reached out and cranked up the volume on his music until it was almost deafening.

* * *

Palmetto’s downtown consisted of about four streets in total, so Neil was pretty sure directions weren’t needed but he still guided Andrew to the Grand Hotel, conveniently both where the wedding was being held and where they were staying.

Earlier in the week, he’d had lunch with Allison who was acting even more manic and impulsive as her wedding drew nearer. When he mentioned that he and Andrew were heading out of town for Coach’s wedding, she’d cackled.

“Oh no, what if there’s only one bed?” she crowed.

Neil was confused as to why that was funny, but he dutifully called the hotel to make sure their room had separate beds. He wouldn’t mind sharing (he missed sharing a bed; it made him feel safe and he hated being completely alone after waking from a nightmare. Jean hadn’t always woken when he had, but his deep sleep breathing had calmed Neil’s racing heart and given him something to match his own breaths to) but Andrew was protective of his personal space and probably didn’t want Neil that close to him.

Neil checked them in and they went up to their room to change and get ready for the ceremony.

“Which one do you want?” asked Neil, indicating the two beds.

“Left,” said Andrew, who was in the process of unpacking his clothes, folding them neatly into the dresser drawers, despite the fact that they were only staying one night. Neil threw his duffel onto the room’s single chair and dug his suit out of it. He didn’t think it looked _that_ wrinkled, but Andrew already had the room’s ironing board set up and gave Neil such a withering look that he sighed and ironed his suit once Andrew was finished with his own.

Once he was dressed and ready (and Andrew had again attacked his unruly hair with a wet comb in a futile attempt to tame it), he sheepishly handed his tie over to Andrew.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but looped it around his neck without another word and proceeded to tie it for him.

“Hey, you learned to tie it backwards,” noted Neil, when Andrew didn’t make him turn around.

Andrew didn’t look at him, busy concentrating on what he was doing. “I figured that since we keep going to weddings I’d better learn since you’re clearly not about to become more competent.”

Neil shrugged easily. Andrew swatted him to make him hold still. “I’m happy with my level of incompetence,” he said.

“You would be.”

“I’m not sure but I think that was an insult.”

“Smarter than you look,” said Andrew dryly.

“How smart do I look?”

“Oh, you know,” said Andrew. “Dumb but pretty.” He smoothed down Neil’s tie and stepped away.

Neil made sure to turn the temperature on the air conditioner down as they left the room; it was a hot day and Andrew was obviously feeling the heat, if his flushed face was any indication.

* * *

Neil felt like he was baking by the time the reception rolled around. The mid-August day was over a hundred degrees and the sun was beating down relentlessly. As soon as he conceivably could, he removed his tie and suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He wasn’t alone; everyone similarly dressed was doing the same thing.

“I should just fuck gender norms and wear a dress,” he announced to his tablemates.

Andrew choked on his drink.

“I think you could pull off something like that,” Matt piped up cheerfully from beside him, indicating a yellow sundress worn by a woman he didn’t know. “It would like nice against your skin, I think. You have such a nice bronze tone.”

“And a matching flower in your hair,” added Dan. “You’d be the belle of the ball.” She was watching Andrew’s reaction with consideration. Although they’d had the promised talk after she and Matt returned from their honeymoon, Neil had wormed his way out of saying too much about Andrew. He certainly hadn’t mentioned that they weren’t really dating or that it was all a ploy to make Jean jealous, because he could only imagine how unimpressed she would be.

“Or that one might suit you better,” said Matt, pointing to a woman in a little black dress.

Dan’s face smoothed out into amusement. “That would definitely show off your legs.”

“I do have awesome legs,” Neil agreed. He turned to Andrew who had recovered from his hacking cough. “What do you think?”

“I hate you,” replied Andrew, his voice hoarse (probably from the choking).

Neil was a little worried about how Dan and Matt would react to that—they didn’t know Andrew and they were overly protective of Neil—but they both just smiled knowingly. Neil was glad that they seemed to like Andrew so far; he wanted all his friends to get along.

Later in the evening, Neil was accosted when returning from the washroom. Someone grabbed his elbow and pulled him out the side door, ignoring his indignant shout of “Hey!” He was dragged for a bit before being let go, but he’d seen his assailant’s face by then and automatically relaxed.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages,” complained Jean.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got you here now.” Jean smiled softly at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last time we saw each other.”

“About?” Neil was struggling to remember exactly what he’d said when they’d spoken. He knew it was during Nicky’s wedding, just before he’d taken poor, sick Andrew home.

“About being happy when we were together. And missing me.”

“Okay…” said Neil, not sure where Jean was going with this.

“And I think maybe I was wrong. Especially being here, with all the memories. See, I thought that since you and I had gotten together so young then maybe we were staying together because it was all we knew, you know? But maybe we stayed together so long because we belong together.”

“Oh,” said Neil, thoughts churning. He felt like he had whiplash and his emotions were a mess; he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

“I mean,” said Jean with a self-deprecating smile, “I’m clearly better for you than your current guy.”

Neil’s thoughts ground to a halt. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

Jean was visibly taken aback by his vehemence. “Well, he’s Kevin’s friend Andrew, right? The one who’s irredeemably violent and doesn’t care about anyone or anything?”

“You don’t know him,” protested Neil.

“But we’ve heard Kevin’s stories—I mean, the man once stabbed him for being too annoying! I could never figure out why Kevin didn’t cut him out of his life.”

“It was just a graze,” said Neil hotly, “and like you’ve never wanted to stab Kevin.”

“You can’t be serious,” scoffed Jean incredulously. “He sounds unhinged.”

“You’re not allowed to talk about him like that; he’s my friend. He’s probably been my _best_ friend these past few months.”

Jean’s jaw dropped. “He’s dangerous, Neil. I’m worried he’s going to hurt you.”

“He’s _never_ hurt me. Unlike you.” Neil took a step away, trembling with anger. How dare Jean badmouth Andrew? Andrew, who, sure, could be a little rough around the edges, but had been nothing but a good friend to Neil since they’d met?

“Neil—” started Jean, sounding conciliatory.

“No,” snapped Neil. “Leave me alone.”

He stomped back into the reception hall, blood boiling. He looked around for Andrew, spotting him sitting with Kevin and Thea. Deciding not to inflict his black mood on him, he headed to the bar.

Matt was already there getting a tray of drinks. “You okay?” he asked, worry in his eyes.

“Not particularly,” replied Neil grimly.

“Uh… you feeling like shots?” suggested Matt, gesturing at the tray in front of him where the bartender was making a little collection of shots.

“You know what? I really am.”

* * *

Neil was in a happy, glowy mood, his anger drifting away the more shots he did. His head felt a little spinny, but it was all good. Who cared about balance anyway?

Matt’s arm was around his shoulder and he was regaling him with a story—Neil had no idea what it was about; he’d lost the plot several minutes previously. Matt trailed off, and squinted into the distance.

“I wonder what’s that about,” he said, his words sounding syrupy slow.

“Hmmmm?” said Neil. “What’s what’s about?”

“Your boyfriend is talking to your other boyfriend.”

Neil turned to look, having to brace himself as the room spun around him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he said sullenly. Jean and Andrew were tensely standing near each other, clearly speaking, which struck Neil as odd. Andrew didn’t seem to like Jean very much for some reason. Maybe it was because he was Neil’s friend and therefore according to the Friend Code he had to hate his ex? Although Neil had no idea if Andrew actually considered them friends. Neil thought they were friends. They watched movies and went to weddings and brought each other food. Last Sunday he’d gone over to Andrew’s because Neil didn’t know how to cook and Andrew was teaching him. They’d cooked a couple meals so they’d both have leftovers to last through the week. Those were things friends did together, right?

“Does Andrew think of me as a friend?” he asked Matt.

Matt turned to look at him, blinking in confusion. “No, I don’t think Andrew thinks you’re _friends_,” he replied.

“Oh,” said Neil, slumping in disappointment. He’d suspected as much, but it hurt to get confirmation. Andrew was smart and could be wickedly funny and was much more competent and put together than Neil was. Of course he didn’t want him as a friend; he could do much better. Although Kevin was Andrew’s friend and Neil didn’t think _he_ was any better than Neil. He was at least as much of a disaster, if not more.

“You never came back,” said Andrew, suddenly materializing next to Neil.

“Andrew!” cried Neil happily, glad to see him. He wondered how he had crossed the room so quickly. He tipped in Andrew’s direction, catching himself from falling off his stool. “You’re not irredeemable!”

Andrew’s eyebrows raised. “Are you drunk?” he asked.

“I think a little,” Neil admitted in a whisper. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Andrew’s hair which was almost golden in the soft lights but he wouldn’t let himself encroach on his personal space. Instead, he curled his hands into fists to fight the temptation.

“I think a lot,” said Andrew, eyeing Matt who was grinning unrepentantly beside Neil.

“Matt!” said Neil. “Andrew’s here! Isn’t that great? He’s so great.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I kinda wanna hug him but he doesn’t like being touched.”

“You can hug me, instead!” Matt grabbed at him but only managed to knock him off his stool.

Neil glanced around, confused as to how he’d ended up on the floor. Someone gripped his arm and pulled him to his feet, causing him to stumble, but the firm grip kept him upright.

“Andrew!” said Neil when he saw who’d hoisted him off the floor. “You’re here!”

“Jesus,” muttered Andrew. “How much did you drink?”

“Like… seventeen shots?” guessed Neil.

“More like four,” corrected the bartender from behind him. “He’s a lightweight.”

“Well, he is very tiny,” reasoned Matt. “And cute! Like a puppy. I love him.”

“I love you too, Matt!” yelled Neil.

Andrew covered his mouth with his hand. “Volume control,” he said. “I’m beginning to understand why you never drink.”

“Don’t like to lose control around strangers,” said Neil. He detached himself from Andrew and took his drink from the bar counter—he didn’t know exactly what it was, but it was fruity and delicious. However, the straw was a giant asshole that kept evading him as he tried to get it in his mouth. “But Matt’s here and I know you’d never let anything happen to me.” He finally caught the straw. “Aha!” he said triumphantly, and then whined sadly as it slipped out of his mouth again.

Andrew rubbed a hand over his face.

“You look like Coach,” said Neil. “He does that a lot when talking to me.”

“I wonder why,” replied Andrew.

“I think cause he thinks I’m frustrating,” offered Neil.

“It wasn’t actually a question,” muttered Andrew. “Okay, let’s go. That’s enough partying for you; it’s time to get you to bed.”

“Two beds,” said Neil, earnestly. “I know you don’t want to sleep with me, so I made sure there were two.”

Andrew faltered for a moment, before shaking his head. He took Neil’s elbow again and steered him out of the room and into the elevator. “I can’t believe it’s possible for you to have even less of a filter than normal.”

Neil swayed on his feet, wishing he could reach out to Andrew for balance. “Jean was mean.”

Andrew briefly glanced at the ceiling of the elevator. “What did he say to you?”

“What did he say to _you_?” Neil countered, pointing at Andrew to punctuate his winning argument.

“Nothing important.” The elevator opened and Andrew propelled Neil down the hall to their room. It was nice and cool when he opened the door, AC blasting away merrily. He sat Neil down on one of the beds and went to the washroom to fill up a glass of water.

“Drink,” he said and watched to make sure that Neil finished it. Then he refilled it and made Neil drink again, before supervising Neil brush his teeth.

He disappeared into the washroom himself after that, so Neil shucked off his shirt and pants and climbed onto his bed, starfishing across the comforter wearing only his boxer briefs.

Andrew made a strange sound when he came out of the washroom, dressed in his soft sleep shorts and a ratty old t-shirt. “That’s my bed.”

“Nuh uh,” argued Neil. “You said you wanted the bed on the left, and that one’s the left.” He reached out his left arm and pointed.

“Left when facing this direct—you know what, never mind,” sighed Andrew, putting his folded laundry into one of the drawers. “Are you sure you don’t want to put on a shirt?”

“Too hot,” Neil whined, watching Andrew through his lashes as he completed a last circuit of the room, moving the trash bin beside Neil’s bed and making sure the door was locked. Then he turned off the lights and climbed into his own bed.

“Andrew?” said Neil after a moment. “Do you think penguins are jealous of other birds?”

“I think they’re birds and have no concept of jealousy.”

“Don’t you think they wish they could fly?”

“I doubt they can wish for anything. Now go to sleep.”

“Andrew?” he asked, two minutes later. “How many spots do you think jaguars have? Do you think ones with more lord it over the others?”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Neil,” grumbled Andrew.

Neil lasted for a couple more minutes. “Andrew? Do you think elephants get head colds?”

Andrew ignored him, burying his face in his pillow.

“Andrew?” asked Neil in a small voice. “Do you think I’m fundamentally unlovable?”

Andrew groaned and rolled over. “The fuck?”

“I sometimes think that Jean’s the only person I’ll ever feel anything for and I wasn’t enough for him. Do you think I’ll be alone forever?”

“No, of course not,” said Andrew harshly. “Just because one asshole can’t see how amazing you are doesn’t mean no one else will. Now, go the fuck to sleep or I’m going to slit your throat and you won’t have to worry about it any more.”

“Okay,” said Neil placidly. He didn’t want to close his eyes; everything spun when he did. Instead, he watched the movement of shadows on the ceiling as Andrew’s breathing became deeper and slower.

“Andrew?” he whispered, once he was sure he was asleep. “I think you’re amazing, too.”


	7. The Wedding of Betsy Dobson and Stephanie Walker

##### September

Neil felt like the actual undead as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. Even though his firm worked all year round, there was something about September that made everything ramp up. It was probably that all their clients passed quiet summers and were raring to go now that employees’ summer vacations were over. He’d been hit with three back-to-back deadlines and it felt like it had been weeks since he’d had a proper night’s sleep, or eaten something that didn’t come from a vending machine, or showered. This last project had been the worst, with far too many nitpicky details that no layperson would ever notice.

He was so tired that it took him much longer to realize that the lump in his hallway was a person. Not just any person: it was Andrew, sitting beside Neil’s apartment.

“Oh, look, you’re alive,” said Andrew dryly.

Neil stumbled to a confused stop. “Is it Thursday?” he blurted. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t help feeling happy to see Andrew. They hadn’t seen each other in person since the day after Wymack’s wedding and the horrible hungover car trip home. Motion sickness was not usually something that bothered Neil but he came very close to bringing up his breakfast as Andrew weaved through traffic.

Andrew looked up at him shrewdly. “What day do you think it is?”

“...Thursday?” guessed Neil, trying to gain a hint from Andrew’s expression.

Andrew levered himself off the floor. “When was the last time you were home?”

“Umm… three days ago? Maybe four? Depends whether it’s Thursday or not.”

“And when did you last sleep?” asked Andrew. “No, scratch that. It was clearly not recently. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

Neil fished his phone out of his pocket and pressed the home button. It remained stubbornly dark. “It must be dead,” he said, waving it at Andrew.

Andrew only rolled his eyes and took both Neil’s keys and his phone out of his hands. He opened the apartment door and ushered him inside. “Sit down,” he said, forcing Neil into a chair before starting to go through his cupboards.

Neil rested his head on the table. “You didn’t actually tell me what day of the week it is,” he yawned.

“Wednesday,” said Andrew shortly, “but no one has heard from you since Sunday. Why don’t you have any food?”

“No time for grocery shopping,” Neil mumbled. “How do you know no one’s heard from me? Who did you talk to?”

“Kevin,” said Andrew, plunking down a jar of peanut butter and then fishing out a packet of saltines from the back of the cupboard. “And Matt.”

“You called them looking for me?” Neil felt like he was missing something. “How do you even know Matt’s number?”

“Eat this,” replied Andrew, sidestepping the question while shoving a peanut butter cracker sandwich at him. He continued putting together the little sandwiches and pushing them at Neil as soon as he finished eating the previous one. Once Neil had enough, he forced a browning banana on him and a glass of suspect milk and wandered away from the table as Neil consumed them. Neil considered protesting as Andrew disappeared into his bedroom with his phone, but he didn’t actually care if Andrew went through his stuff. Plus, he didn’t want to start a fight; he sensed that Andrew was more annoyed at him than he let on about the dead phone thing.

“You have a lot more clothing since the last time I went through your closet,” said Andrew, returning and throwing a hoodie at Neil’s head.

Neil shrugged it on. “Yeah, Allison’s getting worse the closer her wedding gets. She keeps showing up with piles of clothes and making me play dress up.”

“Hmmm,” said Andrew consideringly, eyeing him up and down, “I’ll go through it to pick out what you should wear to Bee’s wedding this weekend.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Neil promised. He shook his head. “I can’t believe this is our last wedding. The summer passed by much more quickly than I expected.” He shook his head. “I should probably look into finding a date to Allison’s wedding next month.”

“It’s a pity you haven’t won Loverboy back quite yet,” said Andrew, something off in his tone.

“Uh, yeah,” said Neil, although that hadn’t been on his mind at all. He hadn’t told Andrew about his and Jean’s conversation at Coach’s wedding; he was still too irritated at the slight against Andrew. There was a possibility that his reaction to Jean's words were a form of self-sabotage, ruining any chance he might have at being happy. It wasn’t like he was likely to find someone _else_ who wanted him and all his issues. “Tell me about Bee?” he asked, to change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his non-relationship with Jean, particularly not with Andrew.

Andrew couldn’t seem to help the look of warm affection that spread over his face at the reference to his ex-therapist. “What do you want to know?”

“Why is she your _ex_-therapist? You seem close.” He’d gotten the opinion through what Andrew had said about her that Andrew saw her as a surrogate mother figure.

“We are, which is the reason why I no longer see her professionally. She helped me through some really tough stuff in my late teens and early twenties and after that she became like family. And there’s a good reason you’re not supposed to get therapy from family members. Once we got to that point, it became evident that I should find another therapist so she and I could remain friends.”

“That’s nice,” said Neil. “I’ve never been to therapy.”

“No,” drawled Andrew sarcastically, “you don’t say. But you seem so level and well-adjusted.”

“Fuck off,” said Neil tiredly, leaning his head back against the chair.

“You’re going to ruin your neck sitting like that,” complained Andrew. “Move to the couch.”

“But it’s so far away,” whined Neil, limply raising his hand in the air. Andrew caught it and dragged him to his feet and then pushed him onto the couch he’d inherited from Matt (Andrew made him get rid of his curb loveseat once he had proper furniture; Neil kind of missed it and its ugly floral pattern).

“Oof,” said Neil, collapsing onto it. “And who is this woman who Bee’s marrying? Do we approve of her?”

Andrew scoffed and pushed Neil’s feet out of the way so he could sit beside him. “They’ve been together for as long as I’ve known Bee; in fact, that’s how I met Renee. Stephanie is her mother.”

“So you’re going to be like step-siblings soon,” said Neil, valiantly trying to stay awake although he could feel himself drifting.

“Bee’s not my mother.”

Neil shrugged. “She’s as good as.” Silence met his statement. He opened his eyes to make sure he hadn’t overstepped. Andrew was giving him a strange look, but he didn’t seem angry or annoyed.

“Why do you say that?” he asked neutrally.

“I listen,” replied Neil. “I know you.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, staring down into his lap in thought.

“What are we going to make for dinner tomorrow?” Neil asked, changing the subject. “It’s my turn to buy.”

“I have a recipe for orange-ginger chicken that I want to try; I’ll send you a list of ingredients to pick up on your way to my place.”

“Okay,” agreed Neil around a yawn. “I promise I’ll charge my phone tonight.”

“I already plugged it in.”

“Thanks. Do you want to watch something?”

Andrew snorted and stood up, patting Neil’s legs. “You’re practically already asleep. Go to bed.”

“Gotta shower first; I smell.”

“It can wait until you’ve gotten at least eight hours of sleep,” instructed Andrew. “In this state you’re liable to pass out in there, and I don’t fancy having to come back to rescue you from a head injury.”

“Liar. You’re dying to see me naked.”

Andrew looked away. “Go to sleep, Neil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Kevin showed up at Neil’s place unannounced on Friday night. “What the hell, Neil?” he demanded as soon as Neil opened the door.

Neil looked at him for a moment before turning and leaving him there—he didn’t slam the door in his face, but it was a close call.

Kevin scrambled after him, shutting the door behind him. “I repeat: what the hell?”

“I heard you the first time,” said Neil. “I didn’t understand the question so I refused to respond to it.”

“I spoke with Jean.”

“So?”

“_So_ he said that you blew him off when he tried to patch things up. I thought that’s what you wanted! So I repeat: what the hell?”

“It _is_ what I want,” said Neil forcefully. “But he insulted Andrew, and I don’t care who he is: no one insults my friends. You know that.”

“Yeah, okay, true,” said Kevin, who had benefited over the years from Neil’s propensity to tear strips into those who were mean to people he cared about. “But this is _Jean_. You knew he was going to be bitchy about Andrew—that’s basically the whole plan! Make him jealous enough to take you back. And it worked!”

“He’s still not allowed to insult him.”

Kevin sat in Neil’s armchair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The look he gave Neil was completely baffled. “But…” he said slowly, “getting back together with Jean _is_ still what you want, isn’t it? That hasn’t changed?”

“Of course it hasn’t,” replied Neil, but he found he couldn’t make eye contact. He wondered why the words felt like a lie.

* * *

Betsy Dobson’s (Bee to her loved ones) wedding was organized as a giant picnic, taking place in a park. Neil was grateful that it was September and the worst of the summer’s humidity was behind them, and luckily the weather turned out beautifully: it was a warm, clear day. As the afternoon wore on, the heat started to get to Neil: teaming up with his recent lack of sleep to make him drowsy. After the ceremony, he and Andrew served themselves from the buffet and took their plates of food to claim a spot under a willow tree a little distance away from the rest of the guests, its drooping branches hiding them from prying eyes.

After he finished eating, Neil stretched out in the grass, lying back at staring up into the willow’s canopy. He was warm and safe and before he knew it he was drifting off.

He had no idea how much later it was when he swam back to consciousness. There were low voices murmuring beside him; he recognized the one with the lower register as Andrew’s and therefore didn’t jerk awake in fear. He dozed for a bit, only picking out some words from the conversation.

“...doesn’t mean anything…”

“...lose your chance…”

“...hypocrite…”

“...what you want…”

“...not like that…”

“...not the same and you know it,” a woman’s voice was saying when he finally opened his eyes.

He blinked sleepily a couple times and rubbed his eyes. “Hi, Renee,” he said in a sleep-rough voice when he recognized the woman demurely sitting next to Andrew.

“Well, hello sleepy head,” she replied, her voice full of suppressed amusement.

“I can’t believe I slept in public,” said Neil, sitting up and stretching. “I’m usually far too anxious around strangers.”

“Andrew’s right here,” said Renee. “He’d never let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” agreed Neil. He knocked Andrew’s shoulder with his own. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“You’re actually more tolerable when you’re asleep,” retorted Andrew. “Although the drool wasn’t attractive.”

“I’m a sexy beast,” said Neil, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He turned back to Renee, “It’s good to see you. I haven’t seen you since…” he trailed off when he realized he’d just put his foot in his mouth.

“Since Allison decided that money was more important than love,” said Renee, somewhat uncharacteristically bitter.

“Right…” said Neil uncomfortably.

Renee’s smile was brittle. “Don’t mind me; it’s not your problem.”

“For what it’s worth, I liked Allison a lot more when you were together.”

Renee huffed. “Are you going to her wedding?”

“Yeah,” said Neil. “If I can find a date for it.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Andrew.

Renee raised an eyebrow and send him a sly look, which he returned with a placid expression.

Neil gaped at him. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said,” interrupted Andrew.

“But there isn't another wedding to balance it out.”

“You can owe me one.”

“I think I probably still owe you for coming out of town with me for Coach’s wedding.”

“Then you can owe me two.”

“What do you want for it?” asked Neil suspiciously. He knew Andrew well enough to know he didn’t like one-sided or unbalanced deals.

“I’ll think of something.”

“Okay,” shrugged Neil. He wasn’t worried; it wasn’t like Andrew was going to ask something of him he couldn’t or wouldn’t give. “Anything you want.”

Renee watched their conversation as if it was a tennis match, her eyes bouncing back and forth between them. At Neil’s final pronouncement, she turned back to Andrew, her smile very smug, like a cat with cream.

“Shut up,” said Andrew, flushing for some unknown reason. Neil assumed it was an inside joke between the two of them. “You have no leg to stand on.”

“I’m just happy for you,” replied Renee.

“There’s no reason to be,” said Andrew. “It’s nothing.”


	8. The Wedding of Allison Reynolds and... uh... Some Dude Whose Name Neil Can't Remember

##### October

The night before Allison’s wedding, Neil was woken by loud knocking shortly after midnight. After dragging himself out of bed and across his apartment, he went up on his tiptoes to look through his peephole. It was Allison, looking less put together than he’d ever seen her.

He cracked open his door and peered out at her. “Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?” he asked, squinting against the light pouring in from the hallway.

“Can I come in?” she asked, sounding defeated.

He opened his door wider and let her in. She took his wrist and led him back to his bedroom, pushed him onto his mattress and arranged his limbs as she saw fit. Once she was satisfied, she laid down next to him and curled around him like a koala, completely immobilizing him in place.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked dryly.

“No,” she replied, muffled against his shoulder. “I didn’t know where else to go; everyone else is mad at me.”

“To be accurate, you’ve cut everyone else off because they keep trying to talk to you about your life choices.”

“Yeah, that,” huffed Allison. She was quiet for a time, the silence contemplative. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” she asked in a small voice.

“Absolutely not,” answered Neil.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she pouted. “I hate it when you’re brutally honest.”

“No, you don’t. There’s a reason you’re here instead of literally anywhere else.”

She huffed again and didn’t answer, crushing Neil even tighter against her. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“How have you lived this long thinking life is _easy_?”

“I’m rich and white.”

“Touche.” Neil shifted, trying to get more comfortable. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Sleep, I guess.”

“Okay,” said Neil, although it was a long time before either of their breathing evened out into sleep.

He wasn’t particularly surprised she was gone when he woke up.

* * *

Andrew and Neil were arguing over what food types were improved by adding chocolate (Andrew’s opinion was all food, Neil was set on certain desserts only) when they arrived at the Reynolds-Rich Guy (Neil never bothered to learn his name—he hadn’t actually believed that Allison would go through with this) nuptials.

“You’ve got to give me fruit, at least,” said Andrew, getting out of his car. “Chocolate fountains for fruit are an accepted thing.”

“Right, but that’s dessert,” argued Neil. “And I don’t know why anyone would want to ruin a perfectly good strawberry like that.”

“What about waffles? Or chocolate chip pancakes? Or Nutella on toast? Chocolate is clearly a breakfast additive as well.”

“Hmmmm, you may have a point there…” Neil trailed off when Andrew didn’t immediately act smug about Neil giving in, his attention snagged by something as they entered the venue. Neil followed his gaze, only for his jaw to drop open when he saw Renee standing by herself, wringing her hands together. She was dressed like she was an invited guest in a delicate lavender-coloured dress that matched the current highlights in her white hair.

Andrew made a beeline for her, Neil on his heels.

“You’re here,” said Andrew; he didn’t sound particularly surprised.

“I decided you were right.”

“I’m always right.”

Renee chuckled. “Aren’t you going to ask what you were right about?”

Andrew lasted for about ten seconds before he caved. “Fine. What was I right about?”

“I was being a hypocrite. My advice to you was good, but I wasn’t following it myself.”

“What advice?” asked Neil.

Andrew ignored him and pressed Renee, “How is coming to Reynolds’ wedding following that advice?”

Her smile turned mischievous with an edge of nausea.

“What are you planning?” asked Andrew, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s a secret,” replied Renee. Then she turned to Neil to forestall anything more Andrew might say, “Hello, Neil.”

“Hi, Renee,” answered Neil cheerfully. “Are you crashing the wedding? Do we have to hide you behind us so security won’t kick you out?”

“No, I’m here as someone’s plus one. Plus I'm taller than both of you.”

“Not put together,” Neil pointed out. “I could sit on Andrew's shoulders.” Those things were definitely broad enough to support him.

“How stealthy,” drawled Andrew.

Renee smiled. “I'll keep that as a backup plan.”

“Who even had an unused plus one so close to the wedding?” asked Neil. “If you’d said something we could have come together, instead of forcing Andrew to keep me company.”

“I doubt you’re forcing him to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” said Renee. “Besides, I didn’t want to get between you. Another friend brought me as his date.”

Before Neil could ask who, his question was answered as Jean came out of the large ballroom where the ceremony was taking place and headed directly for them. “I’ve saved us a couple seats but you’d better—” he froze when he saw who Renee was with. “Neil,” he said, his tone almost questioning.

“Jean,” replied Neil, his thoughts churning. It felt like a clash of two worlds to see Jean and Andrew so close together.

“Andrew,” said Jean, extending a hand to him with a pained expression. “It’s nice to see you again. You’ve been kind to keep Neil company these past months.”

Andrew glanced at Jean’s offered hand and then back at his face. “I’m not sure if it’s possible, but do you think you could be just a tad more condescending?” he asked.

Jean scowled and retracted his hand. Then he cleared his throat and turned back to Renee. “As I was saying, I found the perfect place. We should go claim our seats before everyone starts heading in.”

“Alright,” said Renee easily, although her tone warred with the tension in her shoulders. “I’m ready.” She looked briefly to Andrew who met her eyes with his comforting steady gaze, projecting support.

“Neil,” said Jean, snagging his attention, “I’ll talk with you later.” He turned to leave with Renee.

Neil could only nod, not sure of what to say. “What do you think that’s about?” he asked Andrew, watching Jean escort Renee away with a hand on her lower back. He was hunched down so he could speak quiet encouragement to her.

“I think Renee’s going to do something reckless. Also, your plan to win Loverboy back apparently worked.”

Neil ignored the second part, wondering why it made him feel vaguely ill. “Do you think she’s going to challenge the groom to a duel?”

Andrew looked like he was considering it. “Probably not. She prefers fair fights.”

“That can’t be true. She spars with you, doesn’t she? There’s no way you’re a true match for her.”

“I’ve beaten her.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” replied Andrew instantly. “Well, no. But almost. Once when she was injured.”

“Way to go, Super Stud,” said Neil, batting his eyelashes.

Andrew covered Neil’s face with his palm and pushed it away.

They took their seats not long after that. Neil craned his neck around, looking for people he knew. He caught sight of Dan and Matt sitting near Allison’s family and of Kevin and Thea sitting farther back. Jean and Renee were seated right next to the aisle about halfway down. He didn’t realize how often he kept sneaking peeks at them, not wanting to miss whatever Renee was planning, until Andrew sighed almost inaudibly.

“We can go sit with them,” he offered.

“What?” asked Neil, not following his train of thought.

“It’s clear you want to be over there with Loverboy.” There was nothing accusatory about his tone, but Neil felt contrite anyway.

“No, I just want to see what Renee’s going to do. What if I miss it?”

“I doubt it’s going to be subtle,” said Andrew, sarcastic but mollified. “If I had to put money on it, I’d guess she’s going to speak up when the minister asks if anyone objects to the union.”

“Oooooo, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Neil. “I was expecting, like, spy stuff or something. Maybe tackling Allison and squirrelling her away from here.”

“Reynolds would fight back.”

“I don’t know,” said Neil dubiously, thinking of being wrapped in an Amazonian blonde the night before. “She may actually be relieved.”

“Shhhhh,” hissed the woman in front of them, turning in her seat to glare.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you need complete silence to watch the absolutely nothing that’s happening?” asked Neil. “Fuck off.”

She gasped in affront. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Easily,” said Neil. He twirled his pointed finger in a circle. “Now, turn around and mind your own business.”

Andrew was giving him a look he couldn’t identify. “Making friends?”

Neil shrugged. “It’s not my fault she’s a humourless harpie.”

Luckily, the groom and the minister chose that moment to walk down the aisle to take their places by the altar and begin the proceedings, likely preventing Neil from getting attacked.

It seemed to take forever; they’d been going to weddings for months now, but this was the biggest one by far. There were ten pairs of groomsmen and bridesmaids and Neil didn’t recognize any of them. He wondered if Allison actually knew who they all were. It wasn’t as if her actual friends had been invited to be part of the bridal party.

Finally, after an interminable parade of stylish dresses went down the aisle, one by one (following after _three_ flower girls), Allison appeared, looking gorgeous and flawless and clinging to her father’s arm. She made it halfway down the aisle before she faltered as soon as she caught sight of Renee. She paused for a couple heartbeats, her eyes wide and afraid, before she schooled her face and resumed her trek down the aisle, glancing back over her shoulder once.

Allison’s father leaned forward to whisper something in her ear as he tucked her veil back, and Allison’s face went stiff. It thrilled Neil to see. That was the face of someone who was about to slam her stiletto down onto the closest foot. Neil had seen it happen more than once.

She made it farther into the ceremony than he expected; still, after less than three minutes, she was backing away from the minister and her fiance.

“Okay, that’s it,” she declared. “I’m not doing this.”

Shocked gasps echoed through the church, but Neil only felt pride. Dan turned around in her seat to grin at him and send him a thumbs up.

“I don’t like you, I don’t even know you,” Allison told her husband-to-be, “but as far as I can tell you have the personality of soggy white bread. I figured that we could get married and I’d have my piece on the side—oh, stop your dramatic gasping, I know for a fact that over half of you are committing adultery—and get to keep my parents’ support. But you know what? That’s dumb. I’m not happy, I can’t imagine you’re happy, and my parents can suck it.”

“Allison,” her father said, warningly.

“Oh, shut up, _Dad_,” she replied. “I’m not going along with your plan for my life any longer. You lost. Go ahead and cut me off like you threatened.”

She tore off her veil and turned to the guests, her eyes singling out Renee immediately. “Renee, I’m so sorry,” she said, heading up the aisle. “You were right; money isn’t more important than what we had. Will you take me back? I was idiotic to leave you and I’ll happily spend the rest of my days showing you how much I love you and how fucking sorry I am.”

“I’m very angry with you,” said Renee quietly, her eyes shining with tears. “You don’t deserve me.”

“I know; I was awful,” replied Allison, reaching for her.

“You just _had_ to choose the most dramatic path.”

“But that’s why you love me.” Allison sounded confident but Neil could hear the waver of uncertainty in her voice.

Renee relented and took her hands. “You owe me a lot of spoiling.”

“I do,” agreed Allison. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll get started on that.” They left the room, hand in hand, seemingly oblivious to anything but each other, including the kicked hornets’ nest they left behind.

“Um,” said the man that Allison had just left at the altar—Neil still couldn’t remember his name, something with a C? Christopher?—looking lost. “I don’t… what… uh…”

Eventually his best man took pity on him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him away.

“Best. Wedding. Ever,” Neil whispered to Andrew, who nodded in agreement.

* * *

A lot of guests left after Allison’s dramatic exit but most stuck around, especially after her parents, valiantly trying to pretend as if nothing was out of the ordinary, announced that dinner would still be served as planned (Neil guessed it was mostly pragmatism—what _else_ were they going to do with that quantity of food?).

The original seating plan had Jean sitting with Kevin and Thea while Neil and Andrew were at a table with Dan and Matt, but Kevin’s need to gossip about what had happened had him taking one of the empty seats at their table with Thea and Jean following him. Jean took the vacant seat next to Neil.

“What was Renee’s plan?” Neil asked him, leaning back in such a way so Andrew, sitting on his other side, wasn’t barred from the conversation.

“Just to be seen,” explained Jean. “She said that if Allison saw her and still went through with the wedding then at least she’d have closure that it was really over.”

“Boring,” sighed Neil. “I was hoping for some kung fu fighting.”

“With moves as fast as lightning?” asked Andrew dryly.

“I don’t know,” said Neil, fighting a grin. “Wouldn’t that be a little bit frightening?”

Jean groaned. “Don’t tell me you found someone to encourage your terrible sense of humour.”

“Hey, I’m hilarious,” argued Neil. “Right, Matt?” he said louder. “Am I funny?”

“You’re the funniest person who’s ever lived,” answered Matt automatically, despite not being close enough to hear their previous conversation.

“Doesn’t count,” said Jean. “We agreed that you couldn’t win arguments based only on Matt’s opinion.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Hmmm… yes, you did. It was after you tried to convince me that you knew how to fix phones and Matt claimed you were _practically a professional phone-fixer_ and you returned my phone to me in six pieces.”

“Oh, right,” said Neil sheepishly. “I actually do know how to fix phones, though,” he entreated Andrew.

“I believe you.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying right to my beautiful face.”

“You call that beautiful?” asked Andrew.

“Well, what would you call it?”

Andrew hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

Neil paused. “Was that an insult? I was expecting an insult.”

“When have I ever insulted you?”

“Less than five minutes ago? When you called me a heathen with no taste when I said I didn’t like ice cream cake?”

“Too melty,” nodded Jean.

“Exactly,” said Neil, turning back to him. “I like food either liquid or solid, but I don’t like it when it changes from one to the other.”

“Neil, did you have any idea Allison was having second thoughts?” Kevin loudly interrupted.

“I had an inkling,” admitted Neil. “She came over last night and we slept together.”

On either side of him, Andrew and Jean both inhaled their drinks and started choking in stereo; Dan, Matt, and Thea all paused in their conversation to stare at him.

“Not like that; get your minds out of the gutter,” complained Neil. “She treated me like a walking, talking teddy bear and fell asleep drooling on my neck.”

“Well, I’m glad you talked some sense into her at last,” said Dan.

“I think she talked sense into herself,” said Neil.

* * *

The rest of the meal passed by surprisingly easily. Neil chatted with Jean and Andrew, although it took him longer than it should have to notice that they never spoke directly to each other, both of them vying for his attention.

Otherwise, everything was great; Neil really liked how well Andrew interacted with his other friends. He wasn’t the most social, but he seemed to be putting forth an effort into engaging with Matt and Dan and teamed up more than once with Thea to make fun of Kevin (not that Kevin noticed they were making fun of him). It settled something in Neil’s chest, having his closest friends get along with his new friend.

It was still early when Andrew turned to him and said, “I think I’ll be heading out now.”

“Okay,” said Neil, surprised. Andrew had barely had anything to drink and desserts weren’t even served yet. “I’ll say goodbye and then I’m good to go.” Jean had just left to the washroom; Neil wanted to let him know he was leaving.

“No, you stay.”

“You’re my ride.”

“I don’t think you’ll have trouble finding a replacement for me.”

The conversation at the table died down, the others looking at them curiously.

Neil opened his mouth to argue, but Andrew shook his head to stop him. “Over here,” he said, getting up from the table and leading Neil out of the reception hall so they were alone.

“What’s wrong?” asked Neil immediately.

“Nothing,” said Andrew, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks and screwing his face into an expression that belied his words. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“I said I’ll go with you.”

“No, you’re having a good time with your friends. I’m tired and I want to be alone.”

“Okay,” said Neil dubiously. “Matt and Dan can give me a ride home. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” said Andrew with finality, but he didn’t move to leave right away, looking at Neil with an intensity that made his skin heat.

“I can’t believe this is our last wedding,” mused Neil to fill the odd, tense silence. “It seems like just yesterday you were utterly failing at figuring out when I was lying.”

“You were always lying.”

Neil grinned unrepentantly. “Hey, we know Kevin’s getting married next year. Maybe we can go together for old time’s sake.”

“I doubt it,” said Andrew.

“Oh,” said Neil, unaccountably disappointed. “Well, we’ll still have our Thursday dinners. I have an idea for this week—”

“Can I kiss you?” interrupted Andrew.

“I, uh, what?” stuttered Neil. “I mean, yes of course, but do you want to?”

It was a stupid question because Andrew had just _asked_, after all. But Neil was having trouble wrapping his head around believing Andrew wanted to kiss him. He was under the impression that Andrew barely tolerated him the majority of the time.

Andrew rolled his eyes and yanked him down by the tie. “Yes?” he double checked.

“Yes,” confirmed Neil.

Andrew’s kiss was not gentle; it was demanding and possessive. It lit a fire in Neil’s blood as he kissed back, trying to match Andrew’s fervour. It was like Andrew was trying to commit this to memory as he gripped Neil tightly, his hands feeling like hot brands against him. It didn’t feel like a first kiss, full of promises of new beginnings; it felt like goodbye.

“Andrew?” asked Neil in trepidation once Andrew pulled back, his eyes closed as if he was in pain.

“I had to do that at least once.”

“Once?” echoed Neil, feeling like he’d missed a step going down a staircase.

Andrew cleared his throat and stepped back, his lips spit-slick and swollen. “I’ll see you around, Neil,” he said. A door audibly opened farther along the hallway behind Neil and Andrew’s eyes flicked over his shoulder. “Or not.”

“Wait, Andrew, what?” asked Neil, trying to understand what was happening while simultaneously rearranging all the exploded pieces of his brain back to functioning order.

Andrew turned and walked away. In Neil’s confusion, it took a couple beats to realize he should chase him and force him to explain himself. Before he could someone caught his arm and spun him around.

“Hey,” said Jean. “Can we talk?”

“In a minute,” said Neil distractedly, looking over his shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of Andrew. He hadn’t actually left, had he? How could he kiss Neil like _that_ and then leave him there?

“It’s important,” pressed Jean. “I know.”

“Know what?” asked Neil, not caring about the answer, too busy craning his neck to look for Andrew’s retreating form.

“That you and Andrew are only pretending to date,” said Jean.

At that, he had Neil’s attention.

“Kevin told me your plan,” he said, “and in retrospect it makes sense. I didn’t think you’d move on so quickly.”

“Kevin should have kept his mouth shut.”

“It’s okay, I understand why you did it,” said Jean soothingly. “Plus, it worked. I’ve been thinking since Coach’s wedding that we should get back together.”

“That was months ago,” protested Neil.

“I had to be sure,” said Jean. “It tore me up to hurt you the first time and I can't go through it again if it doesn't work out.”

“I…” said Neil, his mind completely blank.

“This can’t come as a surprise to you,” said Jean, his brow furrowing in confusion at Neil’s non-reaction. “I already made my intentions clear to Andrew. Didn’t he tell you?”

Neil could only shake his head.

“Neil…” Jean said, and reached for him.

Neil let him, relaxing into the familiar hold as Jean tipped his chin back and kissed him. It was soft and sweet and so achingly familiar that Neil’s chest throbbed. It brought back countless memories of all their years together, of everything they’d ever been through. It was like coming home after a long trip away, a feeling that Neil had never experienced with his biological family but that he’d always associated with Jean.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted?” whispered Jean against his lips.

“Yeah,” Neil breathed out. He looked up into familiar grey eyes and smiled. “It was.”


	9. The Wedding of Renee Walker and Allison Reynolds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely blown away by the response to the last chapter. Thank you all for your comments (even those of you who were yelling at me) I read and appreciate them all!

##### October

Neil woke early the morning after Allison’s not-wedding after getting less than two hours of sleep. He lay in bed and stared at his water-stained ceiling, thinking about what had happened the day before. In general he was cautiously optimistic, convinced that it would be better this time. It had to be; his heart couldn’t handle being broken again.

He was glad that he and Jean had settled things, but everything felt out of whack with respect to Andrew. He was confused about Andrew’s motives for kissing him and then immediately leaving and he wanted clarification.

He stretched and got out of bed, fishing his phone out from the puddle of clothing he’d left on the floor after getting home. He texted Andrew, _we need to talk, come over to mine_

He didn’t get a response until the afternoon reading, **you alone?**

_Way to sound like a serial killer_, replied Neil, rolling his eyes at the dramatics, although he was secretly relieved. He’d been worried that Andrew wasn’t ever going to respond. _I am._

A knock sounded on his door almost immediately. Neil opened it without checking who was there, finding Andrew holding a large cardboard box.

“What’s that?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

Andrew shoved it against his chest. He opened it warily, only to find it mostly empty but for an unfinished box of tea that Andrew claimed to hate (although it always disappeared suspiciously quickly when Neil left it as his place, almost as if he was drinking it when Neil wasn’t there).

“What’s this?” asked Neil again, not any wiser for having looked inside the box.

“Nicky claims that after a break up you have to return the other person’s stuff, so I figured since we fake broke up I’d bring you a fake box.”

“Did we fake break up?” asked Neil, before interrupting any possible answer, “Wait a second, my fox-ear hoodie is still at yours.”

“I kept it as payment. It looks better on me, anyway.”

Neil raised an eyebrow and abruptly turned away from the door. “I’m making grilled cheese,” he announced, knowing that Andrew was weak for the gooey, melty, cheese sandwich. Sure enough, he heard his apartment door close quietly and feet pad after him.

“So…” said Andrew watching Neil dig ingredients out of the fridge. He was uncharacteristically fidgety. “How’s Loverboy?”

“Fine, I presume,” said Neil, as he started slicing the cheese. “At least he was before I left the reception last night.”

“You, uh, you didn’t leave together?”

Neil was kind of enjoying Andrew’s obvious discomfort. He deserved it after messing with Neil’s head. “If you want to ask me something, then ask it.”

“He made it clear to me at your coach’s wedding that he wanted you back,” said Andrew through gritted teeth. “I probably should have told you since I knew you wanted that too, but…” he trailed off helplessly.

“I still don’t hear a question,” said Neil mercilessly, assembling the sandwich and buttering the outside of the bread before carefully placing it into the heated frying pan.

Andrew was silent, warring with himself; Neil pretended to ignore him as he waited for the bread to brown. Finally, he asked, “Are you back together?”

“Hmmm…” said Neil thoughtfully, flipping the sandwich over with a spatula. “No, we’re not.”

“Oh,” said Andrew, soft and surprised. Once of Neil’s kitchen chairs scraped against the floor as Andrew pulled it out. It creaked as he took a seat. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because it’s not what he actually wanted,” said Neil. “He broke up with me for a legitimate reason and then got scared when he didn’t find someone new right away and he thought I had.”

He thought back to their conversation the night before.

_“Wasn’t this what you wanted?” asked Jean._

_“Yeah,” admitted Neil. “It was. But it’s not anymore.”_

_Jean froze. “What?”_

_“You were right,” said Neil. “We were together so long that we were just going through the motions. I don’t think either of us were particularly happy at the end and I’m grateful that you recognized that.”_

_“Is this about Andrew? Because—”_

_“It’s not,” interrupted Neil. “He just made me realize something.”_

_“What was that?”_

_“That relationships don’t have to hurt so much.”_

_Jean flinched as if Neil had struck him. “I…”_

_“You’re going to find the perfect guy for you one day,” smiled Neil. The thought of it didn’t cause him any pain. “But it’s not going to be me.” He left Jean standing alone in the hallway and jogged out to the parking lot, unsurprised and irritated that Andrew’s car was already gone._

_Neil wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Jean following their talk, probably wheedling or harsh words, but what he got was quiet contemplation. By the time Neil was getting ready to leave with Dan and Matt, Jean approached him again._

_“You’re probably right,” he admitted. “I keep coming up with good reasons for us not to get back together and they fly out of my head whenever I see you starting to move on. I don’t want to be left behind.”_

_“At least there aren’t any more weddings any time soon,” said Neil. “Some distance will likely be helpful.”_

_Jean moved in for a hug. “Good luck with Andrew,” he said reluctantly._

_“Oh, we’re not—”_

_“You promised not to lie to me,” said Jean, cutting off his protest. “And I have eyes. I can see the way he looks at you. You deserve that.”_

_“It’s really not like that,” tried Neil. “But thank you.”_

_Jean shook his head. “You’ve always been so oblivious to your own feelings,” he sighed. “Think it over, won’t you?”_

Neil had spent most of the night sleepless, mulling over his relationship with Andrew. And he realized that there was a tiny possibility that he’d overlooked exactly how strongly he felt about him.

“And you?” Andrew asked, cutting off Neil’s reverie.

Neil turned the golden crisp grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and cut it into four triangles as per Andrew’s preference. He set the plate in front of him and then retrieved his jar of sweet-mix pickles out of the fridge. Andrew liked to pair pickled cauliflower with his grilled cheese sandwiches.

“What about me?” asked Neil, handing over the pickle jar.

“You said it wasn’t what Loverboy wanted. What do you want?”

Neil turned back to the stove make his own sandwich. It was easier to admit the next part without eye contact. “My relationship with Jean lasted past its expiration date because we were both settled into it,” explained Neil. “I was scared for it to end because I was pretty sure that my sexuality meant I'd never be able to find anyone else. But I now know that’s not true.”

Andrew made a questioning noise.

“Yeah,” said Neil, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “You proved me wrong; it turns out I _can_ be romantically attracted to someone other than Jean.”

The silence behind Neil was heavy.

“Don’t worry,” he continued in a light tone. “I know you’re not interested in dating. But thank you for the proof-of-concept. Matt and Dan are pretty gung ho about setting me up; Dan already had a list of potential dates by the time they dropped me off last night.” That wasn’t actually true, but Andrew didn’t need to know that. He shrugged. “I figured I’d dip my toes into the dating pool.”

He flipped his sandwich in the pan and waited with baited breath to see what Andrew would say. A single kiss didn’t mean he was willing to change his whole outlook on dating.

“What if you don’t?” asked Andrew.

“I don’t want to be alone forever,” answered Neil, deliberately misunderstanding.

“What if you don’t date anyone but me?”

Neil shut off the burner, then turned around and leaned back against the counter. “Well,” he said, crossing his arms, “I guess that might be okay.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, as long as you realize that I’m not suddenly going to become all sex crazed. And that I might never want to have sex with you,” said Neil. “I like kissing and cuddling, but rarely more than that.”

Andrew’s face cleared. “Works for me.”

“Are you sure?” pressed Neil. “Because I’m never going to change and previously you didn’t want to date anyone. I don’t want you to force yourself to change for me.”

“We’ve been dating for months,” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, sort of. Fake dating.”

“We have a standing dinner date and we don’t go a day without at least texting and I gave you a key to my place and we cook meals together. Do you really think I act this way with all my friends?”

“Oh,” said Neil, feeling his cheeks heat. “_Oh_.”

Andrew shrugged like he was above it all, but Neil could see his ears starting to turn red. “I thought you’d figure it out when I kissed you.”

“That could have been due to simple physical attraction.”

“I’ve known you are demi since we met; do you think I was suddenly expecting a hookup?”

“How was I supposed to know what you were thinking? You immediately ran away,” protested Neil. “For all I knew it was a giant mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Andrew muttered before shoving a whole grilled cheese triangle into his mouth.

“You could have said something,” Neil said.

“You were still hung up on Loverboy,” replied Andrew. “I didn't want to put any pressure on you.”

“So your plan was to kiss me once and never talk about it or see each other again?” asked Neil incredulously. “Suffer in silence while I obliviously went back to Jean? You doofus, that's the worst plan ever.”

Andrew frowned and didn't answer, eating his last section of sandwich.

Which reminded Neil that he had his own sandwich to eat. He fished it out of the pan and took a bite out of it, immediately hissing as the molten cheese scalded the roof of his mouth.

“You’re eating it wrong,” said Andrew. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing,” Neil countered. “You have a crush on me.”

“Believe me, I was confused, too.”

Neil wrinkled his nose and ate the rest of his sandwich. “So, what do you want to do today?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

“Whatever you want.”

Neil nodded, unable to help the smile that stole across his face. “I figured we do what we normally do—and also try that kissing and cuddling I mentioned earlier.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Andrew had been right. It became apparent almost right away that they’d already been dating, since basically nothing changed between them except for all the kissing. And how they sometimes stayed the night in each other’s beds when it got too late for one of them to return home. Neil was worried that Andrew had been—not lying, exactly, he trusted Andrew not to lie to him—misleading him (or most likely misleading himself) about how okay he was with Neil’s general disinterest to anything sex-related. But so far, Neil’s nebulous fears hadn’t materialized. Andrew was certainly attracted to him, sometimes very noticeably, but he never made Neil feel pressured or uncomfortable or like he was disappointed that Neil didn’t want to take things further. On the contrary, Neil found himself incredibly comfortable in Andrew’s personal space, pressed up against him with his hands on bare skin.

Which was how Neil found himself wearing a spare pair of Andrew’s pyjama pants and a black t-shirt with a sparkly rainbow on it (a gift from Nicky) while half-draped over Andrew’s lap as they debated which type of bender was best while watching Avatar: The Last Airbender. One of Andrew’s hands had snaked its way under Neil’s shirt and was tracing slow circles on his belly, sending shocks of sensation along his nerve endings. It was Friday morning, two weeks after Allison’s wedding-that-wasn’t and Neil hadn’t made it home after their regular Thursday night dinner. Luckily, he had been given the day off work to make up for all his overtime the previous month. Andrew worked from home so his schedule was flexible and he seemed perfectly content to spend the day lounging on his couch with Neil.

Andrew’s cat (whom he mostly called Cat, but Neil had recently learned was officially named Sir Fat Cat McCatterson—again, thanks to Nicky) was sitting on the nearest armchair, eyeing Neil suspiciously. She seemed personally affronted that his head had stolen her place on the second pillow in Andrew’s bed the night previously and was showing her disdain by following him from room to room and glaring malevolently.

Andrew’s phone buzzed and he paused the show to reach for it. He used separate ringtones and vibration patterns for people he actually wanted to speak with—Neil retroactively realized that Andrew must have added him to his “will actually answer when they call” group fairly soon after they met which made him feel all warm and glowy inside.

“It’s Renee,” said Andrew, texting back. “Get up,” he said pushing Neil off of him. “We’ve got to go.”

“Go where?” whined Neil, not wanting to move. He was comfortable.

Andrew pinched his side. “I need you to be my date to a wedding. I believe you owe me one.”

* * *

After a brief stop at Neil’s apartment so Andrew could go through his closet and dress him (Neil wasn’t sure why Andrew still had to look through his wardrobe; he must have it completely memorized by now, especially with his near-perfect memory) they arrived at city hall only to immediately run into a breathless Dan and Matt.

“Did we miss it?” demanded Dan, adjusting her dress.

“We just got here,” said Neil, leading the way into the building.

“Did Allison call you?” asked Matt, as they spotted Allison and Renee on the far side of the lobby. He waved enthusiastically as they rushed to greet them.

“No; she’s lucky I was at Andrew’s or else I wouldn’t have known it was happening,” complained Neil.

“We decided one guest each,” said Allison loftily. “We each get a witness. I chose Dan and Renee chose Andrew.”

“See if I let you crash in my bed ever again,” grumbled Neil.

“I’m pretty sure your bed is currently full,” said Allison with a sly grin toward Andrew who met her eyes without reaction. “I’m happy you two finally worked things out.”

“They’ve been dating for months now,” said Dan testily. “Since at least last April.”

“Are you kidding me?” scoffed Allison. “They’ve only been pretending to date.”

“No way,” argued Matt.

“Uh,” said Neil sheepishly.

“_No way_,” repeated Matt in a very different tone.

“Come on, it was obvious,” said Allison. “People in happy relationships don’t _pine endlessly_ for each other.”

“I wasn’t pining,” said Neil mulishly.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” said Allison.

“We could bring up your past relationship decisions,” offered Andrew, who had drifted over to greet Renee.

“Pshaw, Renee’s forgiven me,” said Allison. “And she agreed to a quickie wedding so there’s no take backs.”

“You sure?” Andrew asked Renee in an undertone.

“Yes,” she replied, smiling radiantly.

“Then let’s get to it,” said Matt, clapping his hands together.

They had to wait a good half hour before it was their turn with the officiant; Allison spent the time dealing with her nerves by insulting the appearance of three quarters of the people in the waiting area. “I notice that you’ve gotten better at dressing yourself,” she said to Neil. “I knew that if I kept giving you better clothes you’d eventually figure it out.”

“Andrew dresses me,” replied Neil shamelessly. He liked the way it made him feel when Andrew put care into choosing his clothes for him.

“What good is he as eye candy otherwise?” asked Andrew rhetorically.

Eventually they were called in for their ceremony. Allison bopped around like she was on speed until she and Renee took their places. As soon as Renee took Allison’s hands she relaxed completely, smiling so brightly that she practically glowed.

Neil didn’t pay attention to the short sermon—he’d been to enough weddings lately that he knew the gist—he simply watched his friends’ ecstatic faces. His chest felt like it might burst from joy; a year ago, everyone thought the two of them were broken beyond repair.

A year ago he’d been with Jean and oblivious that their relationship was stuck in a rut. A year ago he had no idea how much his life would change in the next twelve months. He threaded his fingers through Andrew’s and squeezed. A year ago he couldn’t have even imagined Andrew, and the way he smashed into Neil’s life, turning everything on its head.

After the ceremony, they went to a nearby pub to celebrate. It was karaoke night, so Neil got roped into singing with Dan, Matt, and Allison. Even Andrew condescended to sing a duet with Renee (“this is a one-time offer because you got married today,” he said when Renee asked him). He had a surprisingly good singing voice, the rasp of it sending a shiver down Neil’s spine.

Neil, feeling happy and safe among his friends and knowing that Andrew wouldn’t let anything happen to him, ordered alcoholic daiquiris instead of virgin ones and it wasn’t long before everything started going fuzzy and soft around the edges. He gazed at Andrew through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way the bar’s lights played over his face.

“Staring,” said Andrew, nudging him with his shoulder when he noticed.

“Yeah,” said Neil dreamily, hugging himself to stop from reaching out to touch Andrew. He was allowed now, but he still didn’t want to accidentally breach Andrew’s boundaries.

Andrew rolled his eyes and pulled Neil’s head down to rest on his shoulder. Neil felt Andrew’s arm curl around his back and he sighed happily, relaxing against him. He took Andrew’s free hand in both of his and traced his knuckles with his fingertips. “Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

“This was my favourite wedding.”

“Mine, too,” answered Andrew.


	10. The Wedding of Kevin Day and Theodora Muldani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end. Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I wasn't planning on writing this story (I was planning on taking a break from fanfic) but it blindsided me out of nowhere. I'm so happy that so many of you seem to enjoy it as much as I do <3

##### May

Neil was getting Andrew a drink at the bar when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and his face split into a smile immediately. “Jean!” he greeted. “I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you.”

Kevin hadn’t asked Neil to be in his wedding party, so he’d missed out on pictures and dealing with a weeping, anxious Kevin before the ceremony. He was of the opinion that he’d been let off the hook, especially since Kevin had been so apologetic when he’d informed Neil that he hadn’t chosen him as one of his groomsmen. Neil milked his guilty feelings as long as he could (especially since he still owed Kevin payback for telling Jean about the fake dating plan) before Kevin caught on that he was trolling him.

Jean hadn’t been so lucky. He was Kevin’s best man, propping up Kevin before (and during—Kevin had probably chugged half a bottle of vodka right before it started to deal with his nerves) the ceremony and delivering a speech during the reception.

“It’s been a while,” said Jean, nodding.

“And according to Kevin you’re dating the best person on the planet? He apparently has a giant crush on your boyfriend.”

Jean laughed and coloured slightly. “He is rather enamoured with him, but I trust Thea to keep him in line.”

“And you’re _also_ rather enamoured with this so-called Jeremy Knox?” asked Neil with false severity. “Are we sure he’s good enough for you?”

“More than,” said Jean. “I don’t want to jinx anything but it’s been four months and things are going really well.”

“That’s great,” said Neil. “I’m happy for you.”

Jean shook his head ruefully. “I can tell you’re still with Andrew based on the death glare he’s been giving me ever since we started talking.”

Neil tried not to grin, knowing he shouldn’t encourage such behaviour. “Do you think if we’d broken up he’d be happy to see us talking?”

“I guess not.” Jean cocked his head. “It doesn’t bother you? You were never one for putting up with me when I was territorial.”

Neil shrugged easily. “You were territorial because you didn’t trust _me_. He, on the other hand, is acting like this because he doesn’t trust _you_ not to hurt me.”

Jean’s expression turned mulish. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know. But old habits die hard. Anyway,” said Neil, changing the subject, “what’s new with you?”

He and Jean caught up for a few minutes, swapping stories about the major happenings in their lives. It was nice but also incredibly strange. Jean had once been the person who he shared everything with and now he was little more than a friendly acquaintance. It was sad but it also struck him that this was an inevitable part of growing up and moving on with their lives.

“That’s awesome about your new job,” said Neil. “I know you really wanted to quit your last one.”

“And now I’m right downtown,” added Jean. “We should set up a monthly lunch or something, now that I work so close to your firm.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” agreed Neil. “Especially now that we can’t count on running into each other at weddings every month or so.”

“Not until everyone we know starts getting divorced and remarrying.”

“You’d better hope it’s not Kevin getting divorced because he’ll definitely be after your boyfriend.”

Jean laughed and glanced over his shoulder. “I should get back to him.”

“It was nice to see you.”

“You, too.”

Neil collected the drink he’d originally come to the bar for and then weaved his way through the tables. Andrew watched his progress with an unreadable expression. Neil offered the drink to him, but Andrew caught his wrist and pulled him sideways into his lap, wrapping an arm securely around his waist while rescuing the drink from being spilled with his other hand.

Neil rolled his eyes. “No need to be jealous, dear. I picked you, remember?”

Andrew sipped his drink, examining it closely to avoid looking at Neil. “I’m not jealous.” The tips of his ears were turning red for some reason. It couldn’t be due to embarrassment because Andrew wasn’t ashamed of his protective streak. That only left...

“Sure you aren’t, sweetheart,” Neil teased, testing it out.

Andrew glared at him as he turned even redder, but didn’t object to the term of endearment. Well, _that_ was an interesting development. Neil would have to play around with that later when they were alone. He knew many ways to take Andrew apart, another one wouldn’t be amiss.

He looped his own arm around Andrew’s neck to steady himself, idly curling his fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

“Kevin cried again while you were busy at the bar,” said Andrew.

“Damn,” swore Neil. “That’s what, five times now? You’re definitely going to win.”

“I can’t believe you thought he’d only cry twice. It’s like you’ve never met him.”

“You cheated, though,” argued Neil. “The only reason you sincerely called him a true friend was to make him burst into tears of happiness. That time shouldn’t count.”

“I’m still going to win.”

“This whole event was basically engineered to prey on his emotions as much as possible. I think Thea had a bet of her own to see how many times she could make him cry.”

Andrew scoffed in agreement. “Our wedding’s not going to be anything like this.”

Neil sat back and raised his eyebrows. “_Our_ wedding?” he asked, grinning.

“I meant when—if we get married,” Andrew clarified, tripping over his words.

“Don’t try to backtrack,” laughed Neil, “you just admitted you think about our wedding. Have you been planning it since the first time we kissed?”

“There’s no chance of you letting this go, is there?”

“Let something go? I don’t know who you think you’re dating, because that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

Andrew sighed, downed the rest of his drink, and met Neil’s eyes directly, no blush in sight. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down Neil’s spine. “Fine. Yes, I imagine we’ll get married at some point in the future. I’m not in any rush. First, I’d like you to move in with me. As soon as your lease is up, if you agree.”

Neil blinked in shock, because that was definitely not the direction he’d imagined this conversation was going. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I know you like your own space and we haven’t officially been together for that long…”

“I’m sure,” replied Andrew, placing his empty glass on the table and running his free hand along the outside of Neil’s thigh. “I’ve been sure about you since you made me play two truths and a lie and I couldn’t tell when you were lying.”

“Your epic crush started that long ago, huh?” said Neil, stalling for time. Living together was a big step. What if it didn’t work out and he had to start from scratch all over again? He didn’t think he could handle having his heart crushed again. “Thought you weren’t interested in dating back then.”

“I wasn’t,” said Andrew. “I wasn’t remotely prepared for you and I tried to deny what I was feeling for a long time.”

“You’re being very sappy,” said Neil.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” replied Andrew, seeing right through him as always. That decided it for Neil; Andrew knew him inside and out. He could trust him with his heart.

“Okay, yes,” he said. “I’ll move in with you next month.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t shift, although it took on a slight cast of satisfaction. “Good,” he replied, stretching up into a blink-and-you-miss-it kiss (they_ were_ in public, after all). “You can bring your reclining armchair that Reynolds bought and your mattress but we’re getting rid of the rest of your crap furniture.”

“No negotiations?”

“You can try. You’ll fail.”

Neil smiled and looked down at his lap. “While we’re being sappy, I’m really glad Kevin forced me to go along with a terrible plan to win Jean back. Turns out he is a good matchmaker.”

Andrew tightened his hold around Neil’s waist. “We’ll never tell him.”

“Of course not,” agreed Neil. “He’ll become even more insufferable.” They lapsed into silence and people-watched in silence for a few minutes. “Can we have a chocolate fountain at our wedding?”

“Those things are germ factories,” protested Andrew.

“But chocolate-covered fruit is the only kind of dessert I really like that’s still acceptable to you.”

“We’ll have cupcakes. You can have icingless muffins.”

“You _have_ been thinking about this,” Neil accused.

Andrew hummed noncommittally.

“Hey, do you think we can train Sir to walk down the aisle as our ring bearer?”

“No.”

“Do I have to invite my mother?”

“No.”

“How about speeches? Can we force Aaron to give a saccharine speech?”

“No.”

“Can we get married on a boat?”

“No.”

“Or fireworks! We should definitely have fireworks.”

“N—maybe.”

Neil pumped his fist in triumph. “I can’t believe you’re vetoing all my awesome ideas. How do you imagine it going?”

Andrew looked away, his face placid and his gaze distant. “I’m there. You’re there. There’s an officiant of some kind. We promise to stay together and support each other and that’s that.”

“That’s that,” echoed Neil. He leaned his head on top of Andrew’s. “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice. Let’s do that some day.”

“Some day,” agreed Andrew. “Not soon. There have been more than enough weddings recently.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [@gluupor](http://gluupor.tumblr.com).


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